


Election Day

by Dancingdog



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Author shares no political views with characters, Body Worship, Castiel Whump, Comedy, DestielFFPrompt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Political Discussion, Profound Bond, Protective Dean, Warnings inside, lovesick fools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25599373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancingdog/pseuds/Dancingdog
Summary: “Flirt with him.”Dean inhaled his water.Once he had finished choking, he croaked, “Excuse me?!”Benny was positively delighted as whatever crack he had been snorting finally appeared to take full effect. “You’re right – Novak is stoic and impossible to fluster when it comes to his policies. So, let’s find another way to fluster him. I’ll bet you can knock him off his game if you flirt with him in front of a live audience and all those ultra HD, four-K cameras.”----Castiel is the Democrat candidate for the general election and is on track for victory. Dean is the Republican candidate and needs more votes. Benny has a plan...
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 122
Kudos: 343
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off a prompt I created, written for a contest out of pure boredom. Join Destiel Port on Facebook - it's good fun.

“We need more votes.”

Dean stopped pacing long enough to give a derisive snort. “Yeah, no shit.”

Pretending that Dean hadn’t spoken, Benny crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow; settling once again into his position as Dean’s most trusted advisor. “You did well in the primaries, but you can’t relax now. Novak is the popular vote.” 

Dean slumped into his chair and drummed his fingers against his desk. “I know that too, Benny.”

Benny took the chair opposite Dean in a much more graceful manner and steepled his fingers against his chin as he contemplated their situation. “We need to appeal to a wider demographic.” 

“I can learn to pole dance if you want? _Ow!”_

“Your uncle Bobby gave me permission to slap you every time you said something stupid,” Benny scoffed as he folded his arms. “C’mon, Dean, take this seriously.” 

Dean rubbed at his cheek miserably and shrugged. “I _am_ taking this seriously. I don’t know what you want me to say, man – Novak’s good. Really good. He’s cool and collected, he knows what he’s doing _and_ he has some great policies. Heck, if I wasn’t running against him, I’d probably vote for him.” 

“Except you _are_ running against him,” frowned Benny as he leaned towards his friend and waggled a thick finger at his face. “And you have some great policies too. Unfortunately, you present those policies with all the enthusiasm of a ten-year-old reading a twenty-thousand-word essay on the industrial revolution.” 

Dean pouted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“In your last campaign, it sounded as though you were reading a textbook you’d never opened before! Your policies are good, Dean, but you’ve got to sound like you mean them! You scraped through the primary elections – you barely beat Shurley. If you want to surpass Novak, you have to be more charismatic!” 

Dean’s mouth tugged even further downwards. “I’m supposed to be professional in front of the cameras. You’ve seen Novak – he’s serious and intense and when he argues, he never raises his voice. How am I supposed to compete with a guy who’s completely unflappable? He’s gonna eat me alive at the debates.” 

Benny rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. “Why don’t you just take him out to dinner already?” he scoffed, earning himself a withering glare from his friend. 

“I mean it, Benny. Nothing fazes him. I could pick apart every single one of his policies and he’d calmly stitch them all back together again and set fire to all of mine. He’s going to beat me in November hands down. The guy is a determined machine.” 

A mischievous twinkle entered Benny’s eyes and Dean narrowed his own gaze, certain that he wouldn’t like whatever his friend was about to say. He swigged his water to prevent himself from shouting _no_ before Benny had even opened his mouth. 

“Flirt with him.”

Dean inhaled his water. 

Once he had finished choking, he croaked, “Excuse me?!”

Benny was positively delighted as whatever crack he had been snorting finally appeared to take full effect. “You’re right – Novak is stoic and impossible to fluster when it comes to his policies. So, let’s find another way to fluster him. I’ll bet you can knock him off his game if you flirt with him in front of a live audience and all those ultra HD, four-K cameras.” 

Shaking his head, Dean stared at his friend incredulously. “That burrito at lunch tasted funny to you too, huh? Want me to call a doctor?”

Benny chuckled and offered Dean an unnerving grin. “Hear me out, Dean. You need to show the voters that you’re a relatable guy. You need to show them that you’re human, like they are, and that you have a personality outside of politics. Now, Republicans don’t have the best reputation for their campaign personas, but maybe you can change that. Maybe you can show voters that you can be fun and witty without feeling the need to degrade and humiliate your opponent. Flirt with Novak a little, catch him off-guard and make sure you question his policies, not his character.”

“You’ve finally lost it,” groaned Dean. “Who am I supposed to ask to be my running mate when you’re thrown into a psych ward?” 

“Shut it, Dean. I’m perfectly sane. I’m just trying to find a way to- Wait. You were going to ask me to be your running mate?”

Dean’s head fell into his hands. “Well, now that I know you’re on LSD I can’t!” 

Benny grinned. “I’d be honoured. Anyway, think about it for a sec. What have you got to lose? Novak has the popular vote and you won’t win the general election unless you do something now. Like I said: we need to widen the demographic and we can do that by showing the people a bit of that Winchester charm. Even if they don’t agree with all your policies, it’ll be impossible for them to _not_ like you.” 

Dean shot his friend a hard glare and clasped his hands over the desk as though he was talking to a particularly dense child. “Benny. Castiel Novak is gay. If I flirt with him, people are gonna think I’m mocking him. Why are we even considering this?” 

“Because they won’t think you’re mocking him when they realise that you ain’t only interested in breasts,” smirked Benny.

“No,” said Dean hurriedly. “We’ll lose too many votes.” He frowned. “Wait, how do you know about-”

“So, we lose a few homophobic bigots – big deal. We’re already losing ‘em with your non-traditional Republican policies,” scoffed Benny. “But what if we could open ourselves up to the LGBT community, hm? That’s a lot of new voters…”

Dean eyed his advisor suspiciously, trying to recall when he had confessed his bisexuality. When his mind came up blank, he consoled himself with the fact that Benny didn’t appear perturbed by the knowledge that his best friend loved donuts _and_ churros.

“There are so many other things wrong with your crazy scheme,” protested Dean. “A Republican flirting with a Democrat in the middle of a live interview? No. No way.”

“Why not?” Benny outright laughed. “Novak’s good-looking. I’m sure you’ll manage. This country’s tired of their politicians constantly attacking each other. We all need a bit of light-hearted entertainment. Show everyone you’re a good sport.”

“No. I’m not flirting with him.”

Benny arched an intimidating eyebrow. “You got any better ideas?” 

Dean sunk lower into his seat and closed his eyes.

* * *

CNN was the first network to ask Dean for an interview alongside his Democratic opponent. They claimed that they wanted both candidates to discuss their feelings after winning their respective primaries and caucuses, and also how they felt about the upcoming general election. 

Dean knew that what they were really looking for was a fight between him and Novak.

Nonetheless, he accepted, because Benny’s insane idea had been poking his brain for the past couple of weeks and with September already upon him, he needed to find a way to gain favour with the electors. It was time to test Benny’s meth-induced plan. 

Karen Hoople was their interviewer and she lived up to her name with blonde _‘I’d-like-to-speak-to-your-manager’_ hair. Balanced upon the end of her nose were a pair of cat-eye spectacles and plastered over her thin, disapproving mouth was the most garish red lipstick that Chanel sold. The rest of her was draped in a black pantsuit that would have looked absolutely marvellous on someone who was about to jump out of a jet plane with a parachute strapped to their back. The moment Dean sat down, he could practically smell her hatred for him. 

Beside him, at a respectable distance for political enemies, perched Castiel Novak. He refused to spare Dean a glance and he held his head high even as Dean fiddled awkwardly with the end of his tie, like a private-schooled child waiting to be called into the principal’s office. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Benny started to laugh. 

The start of the interview surprised Dean, since he hadn’t been listening to Hoople or any of her news team whilst he had been musing over whether Novak’s arms were long enough to slap him from that distance. He figured that Novak would probably wait until they were off air to slap him and therefore Dean would have time to escape beforehand. 

Novak had already launched into the discussion of the primary election results and Dean held back a grimace as the Democratic leader revealed that he had over ten million more votes than Dean. Dean didn’t care what Benny said; there was no way that he could win this election. 

Hoople seemed to recognise his discomfort and she pounced on him the moment Novak finished his sentence. “And how does it make you feel, Mr. Winchester, knowing that your rival has such a powerful foothold in the votes already?” she asked, glee shimmering behind her black-rimmed spectacles. 

Dean flicked his gaze briefly to Novak before forcing a smile for the camera. “Honestly? A little intimidated. Mr. Novak knows what he wants and how to get there. He’s got some good policies.” 

Hoople blinked in surprise and dismay flickered across her features at the subdued reply. Novak’s brows pinched lightly downwards. 

_Time to shove my entire leg into my mouth_ , thought Dean. “But I’ve got _achievable_ policies.”

He watched Novak stiffen slightly, clearly gearing up to maul Dean’s ego. In front of them, Hoople’s vicious smirk returned and she clasped her hands over her lap like a depraved Bond villain. 

“Oh? What makes your ideologies more achievable than Mr. Novak’s?”

“Let’s take Mr. Novak’s position regarding minimum wage,” said Dean calmly. “He claimed that once elected, he would raise the minimum wage a total of two dollars and fifty cents, which would result in a base wage of nine dollars and seventy-five cents per hour. Sounds great, right? However, an average working week is thirty-four point four hours. That means every business has to find an extra eighty-six dollars _per week_ for each one of its employees. If you’re a farmer or a restaurant owner or a tradesman who employs other people… that’s a lot of money to scrape up without an increase in custom. Even if you only employ six people, that’s five-hundred and sixteen dollars extra per week. How are they going to pay for it? I’ll tell you how – businesses will let people go. Minimum wage will rise, but so will levels of unemployment.” 

“US minimum wage is practically impossible to live off as it is,” commented Novak. “US waitstaff rely on tips to pay their bills and eat. That’s unacceptable. Britain has a minimum wage of eight pounds and twenty pence – that’s ten dollars, thirty-nine cents at today’s exchange rate. How can you justify the current US minimum wage?” 

“I’m not justifying it,” said Dean. “But I don’t believe that such a sharp increase will help businesses, nor do I want unemployment figures to spike. That’s why I want to increase minimum wage by ninety cents. It’s far more manageable for businesses.” 

“You’re protecting large chains and corporate fat cats who don’t wish to part with their wealth,” said Novak coolly. “Such a small increase will hardly help US citizens facing poverty. An extra thirty dollars per week is not enough in the face of rapid inflation.” 

“And what of the smaller businesses who can’t afford your rising minimum wage?” argued Dean. “You say I’m protecting large business owners, but who’s going to protect smaller businesses from debt if your policies are implemented? How will you cap unemployment?” 

“We’ll provide subsidies to those who can prove that they truly cannot afford the change – that is until they find a way to stay afloat,” replied Novak, refusing to cast his gaze to Dean. 

Dean shook his head incredulously. “And where are you going to conjure all those subsidies from?”

“Taxes,” said Novak easily, as though he had engaged in the same argument over a hundred times. “We’ll implement a staggered tax system based on income. The higher the income bracket, the higher the tax. The lower the income, the lower the tax.” 

“Right,” hummed Dean thoughtfully. “What about pensions? How about the self-employed and zero-hour contracts? How will the new tax laws apply to them?” 

Novak hesitated for a fraction of a second before finally turning to Dean. “Pensions, self-employment, and zero-hour contracts can all be policed and placed within an income bracket.” 

Dean allowed a grin to tug at his lips. “They can all be lied about, too. Tell me, Mr. Novak, if you were self-employed, receiving a cash-based income, and you thought that you could get away with a few dollars of your earnings being untaxed, would you declare them to the government or pretend you never received them in the first place, thus dropping yourself into a lower tax bracket?” 

Novak remained silent and eyed Dean with a raised eyebrow. Dean chuckled. “Actually, maybe neither of us should answer that. Might get us both into a lot of trouble.” 

Hoople’s gaze sparkled and she leaned closer to Dean, reminding him that she was still present. He startled a little as she spoke.

“Mr. Winchester. Are you admitting that you would consider tax evasion?” 

Dean fought back a grimace, realising he had indeed stuck his entire leg in his mouth. Might as well be truthful…

“If I was self-employed and thought that the government was screwing me over with taxes? Probably. Might not actually do it, but the thought would certainly cross my mind. That’s why Republicans stand for equal taxes for all.” 

“Except they’re not really equal,” said Novak, gracing Dean with an impassive gaze. “If ten percent of your income goes to the government, would you rather have ninety percent of ten dollars, or ninety percent of ten-thousand dollars?” 

“Say there is a family of four in a household. One member earns just enough to be placed into the highest income bracket. The rest of the family are unemployed,” mused Dean. “Is it fair that the one member should be taxed so heavily even though they have to support the rest of their family? Will that not lower their standard of living?” 

Novak looked away from Dean, clearly finished with the argument as he returned his attention to Karen. “No. I doubt it will make too much of an impact on their standard of living. However, Mr. Winchester, if that one hypothetical person has a complaint, they can have my number and contact me directly,” he almost scoffed. 

Dean saw his opportunity and debated with himself whether or not to take it, in the same way that a thief might debate whether or not to flirt with a Rottweiler whose jaws are around his throat.

“I see, Mr. Novak. Since you’re offering, may I have your number as well?” He fished his phone out of his inside pocket and presented it to his rival, deciding that Novak’s teeth weren’t as sharp as a Rottweiler’s. 

Novak blinked at the device in surprise as the camera crew glanced at one another uncertainly. Eventually, Novak raised his chin. “I don’t think that’s an appropriate question.” 

Dean pocketed his phone. Apparently, he really hated living because then he smirked, “I’m not your type, then?”

Hoople’s eyes widened as Novak hesitated. Behind the cameras, the crew began to mutter in confusion and disapproval. Novak squared his jaw as he fixed Dean with a disdainful expression. 

“I don’t think it’s becoming of a politician to ridicule someone for their sexuality, Mr. Winchester. I expected better of you. Can we please move onto the next question, Ms. Hoople?”

Hoople glanced behind the cameras with an excited gaze before smoothing her features out once more. Dean ignored her and relaxed into his seat as he nodded. 

“Totally agree. Mocking someone for their sexuality, race, or religion is absolutely appalling. Still, you didn’t answer my question. So… am I your type?” 

Novak narrowed his eyes as he turned to Dean. “This deplorable behaviour must-”

“Because you’re definitely mine,” Dean grinned as he shot the other man a cheeky wink and pretended that hundreds of Republican voters hadn’t just lovingly started penning death threats. 

Novak’s lips parted as his protest got lodged in his throat somewhere. Opposite them, Hoople gaped at Dean in open shock for a moment before quickly closing her mouth and shuffling papers to busy herself. 

“Mr. Winchester,” Novak said slowly with a sharp edge to his tone. “If this is a publicity stunt, which uses the LGBT community as the punchline, I’ll be very disappointed in you.” 

Dean chuckled. “You allergic to compliments or something? Can’t you just accept that your opponent finds you attractive or are you gonna be all weird about it?” 

Novak’s jaw clicked closed as he stared at Dean with wide eyes.

“Got any more questions, Ms. Hoople?” Dean asked with a smirk as he came to the conclusion that the Atlantic Ocean was a fantastic place to dump Benny’s body.

* * *

Media interest in Dean’s personal life blew up overnight. Fox News was desperate to have Dean on the show and they conveniently forgot to mention that they had scheduled Novak for the same time slot. The reception he received from the Democratic leader was a little different to their first interview on CNN and suddenly, confidence trickled through Dean’s veins at Novak’s barely noticeable discomfort. 

He sat a fraction too close to his rival politician and watched Novak avert his gaze, and because Dean hadn’t actually mentally matured since the age of sixteen, he slung his arm around the back of Novak’s section of couch and offered him a lascivious grin and wink. Novak swallowed subtly and shuffled further along the couch. Dean left his arm where it was and smiled politely at the presenters, who shared a thrilled glance before making small talk as they awaited their cue. 

The cameras began recording and the presenters introduced the headlines – something to do with killer hornets and sports that Dean had no interest in – before turning their attention to the politicians. 

“Mr. Winchester,” said Mrs. Tiana Turner, whose name Dean found endlessly amusing, “Mr. Novak… It’s good to have both of you in our studio.” 

“The pleasure is all ours,” grinned Dean, extending his hand for both presenters to shake. Novak smoothly followed Dean’s lead and leaned forwards to offer his own arm and, because Dean was beginning to enjoy screwing around with Novak’s head, he took the opportunity to slide closer to the Democrat so that when Novak settled into his seat again, he was practically nestled in the crook of Dean’s elbow. 

Novak blinked at the unprofessional position and seemed to face an internal struggle on whether or not to pointedly slide further around the couch, which would ultimately place him beside Mrs. Turner. Dean bit back a smirk at his rival’s pursed lips and wondered how far he could push Novak without being kicked off the couch. 

Mr. Tobias Lee was a tall, Korean-featured man with an eye for every piece of clothing ever created – excepting ties. Dean stared in fascination at the chubby, smiling penguins peeking out from behind Mr. Lee’s charcoal Armani suit. 

“Mr. Winchester,” began Lee, “in your last press interview you revealed something that has never been heard before in the history of the presidential elections. You told the public that you were physically attracted to your opponent; Mr. Novak. Could you discuss what prompted you to make this claim and what you expected to come of it?” 

“You say that like I was lying about finding Mr. Novak attractive,” chuckled Dean truthfully, because his opponent genuinely was attractive and entirely Dean’s type. “What do _you_ think I was expecting to come of it?” 

Mrs. Turner – a dark-skinned woman with smoky eyes and a blunt approach – eyed Dean, unimpressed. “Many people believe that you’re pretending to be attracted to Mr. Novak to gain votes from the LGBTQA community. They are under the impression that this is some sort of publicity stunt at the expense of the gay community and that, in a way, you’re ridiculing Mr. Novak for his sexuality and therefore, the rest of the LGBT community.” 

Dean’s amused grin faded and he recoiled his arm from behind Novak’s back. “Well, I can tell you that the only thing those people got right is that I’m trying to win votes.” 

“You oppose their views?” Turner asked, arching an accusing eyebrow.

“I’m stating a fact,” Dean said, more seriously. “I would never mock or ridicule the LGBTQA community, or Mr. Novak, in any way. Nor would I lie to American citizens about my own preferences.” 

Looking mildly surprised, Turner clasped her hands over the table. “You’re saying that you’re gay?”

“Bisexual,” Dean corrected, ignoring the nervous knot in his stomach. “Why limit myself to fifty percent of the population?” He forced a laugh that sounded far too pathetic for his liking. 

Turner didn’t appear convinced. “And your party supports you? The _Republican_ party supports a bisexual candidate representing them in the general election? You’ve faced no conflicts of interest with any Members of Congress?” 

Dean cleared his throat awkwardly and decided that drowning Benny was letting him off too easy. “Well, this is the first they’ve heard of it so, ah… I’ll let you know in a couple of weeks.” 

Turner and Lee shared a bewildered glance as Dean gave the cameras a sheepish smile. He wondered how many electors had just disowned him. 

“You waited until after the primaries to make this announcement,” said Novak quietly, sounding like a disappointed parent. Dean swivelled to face him, shocked that the other leader had spoken at all. Also, why did he feel like a naughty child whenever Novak addressed him? It was very disconcerting. 

“Yeah, is there a problem with that?”

Novak frowned at him. “You felt as though you wouldn’t beat your competitors in the primaries if you revealed who you really are. You pretended to be someone you’re not in order to win votes and as soon as you got the result you desired, you revealed previously concealed information about yourself in order to manipulate a new demographic and gain sympathy.” 

Dean nearly balked. _Manipulate?_ He would never in a million years have expected Novak to turn against him for _publicly coming out_.

“Hold up,” he scowled, genuinely irritated. “Are you condemning me for coming out as bi or is that Democrat speak for you think that I’m lying?” 

Novak smiled tightly. “Either way, it’s all very convenient, isn’t it? Dishonest, even.”

 _This is payback for wrapping my arm around him,_ thought Dean incredulously. _Fine_. If Novak wanted to play dirty, then Dean would roll around in the mud with him. 

He allowed a flirtatious smirk to sweep across his face as he stretched his arm around his rival once more and leaned closer, as though they were sharing a private moment. 

“Convenient for whom, Cas?”

He watched Novak’s mouth open and immediately snap shut again as his eyes widened at the implications. They quickly narrowed. “That’s _Mr. Novak_ to you, _Dean_.” 

Dean grinned, slow and wide and stared as intensely as he could possibly manage into his opponent’s eyes. He lowered his voice to a sultry purr.

“Is it now, _Mr. Novak?”_

Novak swallowed and Dean pointedly watched his throat bob as he bit back laughter. Novak was making it far too easy for him. 

Suddenly, Novak jerked backwards and raised his head a little higher. “Even if you’re telling the truth about your… interests, why should the public put their faith in someone who felt that they needed to hide themselves to win votes? How are you supposed to lead a country when you aren’t honest with its people?” 

“What matters,” began Dean, raising his chin to match Novak’s gaze, “is delivering on my policies and being truthful when it comes to my plans for this great country and its loyal citizens. Unless, of course, you’re suggesting that my sexual preferences affect my ability to run this country – which would be very ironic, wouldn’t you say?” 

He smiled smugly as Novak floundered for a moment, then raised his eyebrows when the Democrat opened his mouth only to snap it shut once more. To add insult to injury, Dean dragged his eyes over Novak’s frame in admiration and the Democrat quickly averted his gaze. Dean decided that he rather enjoyed this game. 

“I never meant to imply anything untoward,” said Novak, a little more subdued. “I merely wished to stress the importance of honesty in our campaigns.” 

_Yeah, right_ , thought Dean. He was about to tie Novak in so many knots; he would still feel like a pretzel by next September.

“Of course,” Dean drawled. “Tell me, Mr. Novak, do you recommend every member of the LGBT community to come out to the world in the name of honesty, regardless of whether it’s safe for them to do so? Or do you just treat me differently because you’ll do anything to win that election? Oh, and the way you described me – manipulative, dishonest, liar – all because I didn’t come out to three-hundred and twenty-eight _million_ U.S. citizens when you deemed it _proper_ … I’ve got to say, it’s almost as though you’re making me out to be some evil villain, which you never implied when you believed that I was straight. Overall, I’m not sure that I like this message you’re sending – do you have an issue with my bisexuality?” 

There was a glimmer in Novak’s eyes as though he had just figured out Dean’s game and Dean barely resisted winking at him. He feigned a hurt expression instead and watched Novak calculate how to navigate the new minefield. 

“I have no issue with your bisexuality, nor do I recommend anyone to come out when it isn’t safe to do so,” said Novak carefully, giving Dean a look that promised revenge later – a look that the cameras couldn’t possibly have caught the depth of. 

Dean’s heart pumped a little faster and he realised that he really was enjoying this strange competition. Novak was intelligent and passionate and determined to catch him off-guard, and Dean relished every tiny reaction he garnered from his opponent. He wasn’t quite as cold and boring as Dean had first assumed. 

The presenters seemed content to let them bicker between themselves, so Dean allowed an easy-going smirk to sweep over his features. 

“So, it’s one rule for me and a much more lenient, accepting rule for everyone else. Got it. Now you’re starting to sound like a true politician, Mr. Novak. And you still haven’t addressed that colourful description you gave me; not sure I agree with presidential candidates attacking one another’s character in place of their policies. I’d expect that sort of behaviour in a drunken bar brawl, not a presidential race.” 

A curiously tiny smile tugged at Novak’s lips before it vanished and he graciously bowed his head. “You’re absolutely right, Mr. Winchester. My deepest apologies. You have every right to be offended by my earlier statements and I can only express my sincerest regrets and hope that you can forgive me. We both deserve a fair, clean race after how far we’ve already come.” 

_Crap._ Dean hadn’t considered that Novak would overcome his pride enough to apologise. Well… he’d just have to try harder next time. With a warm smile, Dean squeezed Novak’s shoulder in a show of affection and a desire to watch his opponent’s eyes widen with surprise. 

“I knew there was a reason I liked you,” Dean grinned. “A pretty face _and_ good manners; how can I stay mad at you?”

Novak’s eyes sparkled and Dean couldn’t tell whether it was out of triumph or amusement. He held out his hand and Dean eyed it queryingly. 

“To a clean race?” Novak prompted.

A genuine grin stole over Dean’s face and he grasped his opponent’s hand firmly. “May the best man win.” 

When they separated, Dean snaked his arm around the back of Novak’s chair with a barely concealed smirk and when the Democrat realised that he was once again settled in the crook of Dean’s elbow, he huffed quietly in amusement. 

Dean startled when his opponent leaned back against his arm and for a moment, nervous excitement blossomed in Dean’s chest at the sight of how naturally Novak fit against him, as though he was perfectly comfortable with Dean’s arm curled around his shoulders. 

Dean quickly returned his attention to the presenters, who looked ready to start asking questions.

He obviously needed to get laid if he was thinking those sorts of thoughts about the leader of the Democratic party.

* * *

It was due to the Universe’s strange sense of humour that Dean next stumbled across his rival in the same bar from which he was trying to pick up a one-night-stand. 

He was flirting with a witty, curvy woman sporting dark hair and blue eyes – and no; the irony was not lost on him – when who should turn up beside her but Castiel Novak. He didn’t seem to notice Dean when he ordered a straight whisky and Dean’s astonished gaze must have lingered upon him a fraction too long, for the woman he had been talking to plucked up her half-empty cocktail and wandered off into the throng of patrons, in search of someone else’s attention. 

Dean glanced around the bar for all of five seconds before smoothly sliding into the seat she had just vacated. Novak spared him a brief glance before returning to his whisky and Dean grinned when the Democrat stiffened after a few moments and whipped around to face him fully. 

“Hey,” Dean greeted with a genuine smile.

“You’re… here?” Novak mumbled with a frown as he shot his whisky a suspicious glance. “Why are you here?” 

_He sounds exhausted_ , Dean thought as he raked his gaze over his rival’s less-than-pristine clothes. Novak never looked anything less than perfect when Dean saw him, so why did he appear so weary now? He obviously wasn’t looking for a booty call like Dean was and as Dean watched him down the entire glass of whisky and ask for another, he wondered if everything was all right in Novak’s head. 

Novak set to work on his second straight whisky and Dean frowned lightly.

“I’m just enjoying the nightlife,” Dean offered. “What about you?” 

Novak placed his drained glass on the bar top and signalled for a third. “Not sure I should be divulging my secrets with a Republican,” he muttered, not even a little buzzed. “You might use them against me later.” 

As he curled his hand around his third glass and threw it down in one gulp, Dean’s growing unease blossomed into alarm. When the fourth glass was pressed into Novak’s grip, Dean sealed his own hand over its rim. 

“How about we ease up on the hard stuff for a bit?”

Novak scoffed and brushed Dean’s hand away. “You’ve not won the election yet, Winchester. I don’t have to listen to your demands.” 

Dean slid his hand over the top of the glass before it reached Novak’s lips and the Democrat glowered at him as he returned the whisky to the bar top. 

“Is there something you wanted or are you just here to irritate me?”

Dean scowled and made a point of downing his rival’s glass. He grimaced at the aftertaste and wondered how Novak stomached such cheap swill. 

“You owe me a drink,” huffed Novak as he stole the empty glass back and ran his finger along its rim. It whistled softly.

“So much for a clean race,” said Dean. “Thought you were going to be nicer to me?” 

“We agreed that I wasn’t going to attack your character during my campaign or in front of the cameras. I never said I actually liked you,” grumbled Novak bitterly. “Nor did we agree to be nice to each other outside of politics.” 

Dean watched as Novak began to fuss with his left sleeve. This was not the calm, collected Democrat leader he had teased earlier in the week. 

“Well, that hurts considering I genuinely like and respect you,” huffed Dean. “Or at least I did until you just revealed that you’re kind of an ass.” 

Novak ceased fiddling with his sleeve in order to arch an eyebrow at Dean. “You sound offended,” he stated, looking rather surprised. 

“That’s because I am.”

Novak stared at Dean’s folded arms for a few seconds before straightening in his seat. “Wait, you actually do like me? Those interviews… None of that was staged, was it?” He paused, frowning. “Does that mean you’re genuinely attracted to me?” 

Dean blinked and uncrossed his arms. “Of course I like you – especially after your performance earlier this week. The way you tried to catch me out and the professional manner which you managed to get yourself out of that mess I put you in… I enjoyed all of it. You keep me on my toes.” His smile faded. “…I didn’t realise you thought I was faking it. Does that mean that _you_ were faking it?” 

Novak seemed to size Dean up for a second before drumming his fingers against the bar. “You’re new to this, aren’t you? Politics, I mean. It goes against your nature to deceive people.” 

“I was mayor of Lawrence, Kansas,” Dean said defensively. “I’m not a total novice. I know how this stuff works.”

Novak held his hands up in a placating manner and swivelled to face Dean properly. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing,” he said gently. “I’ve competed in these sorts of races before and they’re always messy affairs. I’ve never met a Republican candidate who hasn’t thrown insult after slur at me. Just because they’re polite on camera doesn’t mean that they’re polite people. You are… refreshing, Mr. Winchester.” 

Dean frowned. “Well, I’m not looking for a fight – just a friendly competition. And when I’m not working, I’m not even looking for that.” He extended his arm. “Call me Dean.” 

A smile tugged at Novak’s lips and he shook Dean’s hand firmly. “Then you may call me Castiel.”

“Well then, Castiel, now that we’re fully acquainted, what’s with the hard drinking? Get stood up on a date?” Dean teased as he tapped the empty glass. 

Castiel flinched ever so slightly and Dean’s brows pinched downwards. “Couldn’t sleep,” Castiel muttered in a way that said _I know that you know I’m lying, but please don’t ask questions_. 

Deciding that he had no right to push the matter, Dean made a quiet sound of acknowledgement and watched Castiel tug uncomfortably at his sleeves. 

“You never answered my question,” Castiel stated, suddenly looking far brighter.

Dean cocked an eyebrow. “What question was that?” 

An amused smirk crinkled the Democrat’s eyes. “Are you genuinely attracted to me or is it really part of some plot to get yourself more votes with the LGBT community?” 

Dean chuckled and leaned back in his chair to regard his opponent. He made a show of rolling his gaze over Castiel’s body, as though assessing a highly coveted oil painting crafted by da Vinci himself, and he crossed his arms like a professional critic. 

Castiel was handsome; that much was obvious. Washboard abs and a gummy smile that lit up any room; he had sparkling lagoons where his eyes should have been and his large hands and long, delicate fingers would probably feature in at least one of Dean’s dreams in the upcoming weeks. Or maybe a couple of shower fantasies. 

“Both,” Dean said honestly, because what was the point in lying when everyone already suspected it?

Castiel blinked and shook his head with a huffed laugh. “I… wasn’t actually expecting you to admit either of those things.” 

Dean grinned and shot the Democrat a teasing wink. “Well, I don’t want you accusing me of dishonesty.”

Castiel grimaced at the reminder of their interview earlier that week. “I was clutching at straws. I apologise for that – I thought I could get an easy dig in and you were right to turn it around on me.” 

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” commented Dean airily. “If you want to take pot-shots at me, I’m happy to up my flirting game. You call me manipulative and I run my fingers through your flowing locks.” 

A startled laugh erupted from Castiel’s throat and he pushed a hand through his already ruffled hair. “The press would have a field day.” 

Dean wiggled his eyebrows and ordered them both a whisky and coke. He felt Castiel’s eyes trailing down the side of his face, lower, lower… 

“I take it that you plan to continue your flirtations on camera, then? Nothing I say or do would make you stop?”

Dean fixed Castiel with a serious look. “If you say you’re uncomfortable, I’ll stop right now and that’ll be the end of it.” 

Castiel’s eyes widened a fraction as Dean received their drinks and passed one to him. He was silent for a long minute before speaking softly, “I’m not uncomfortable.” 

Dean smiled into his drink and wondered how all those butterflies got trapped in his chest; he must have inhaled a lot of caterpillars as a kid. 

“Good,” Dean shrugged before a wicked smirk crept over his face. “And what makes you think that my flirting will be reserved solely for the camera?” Despite the klaxons blaring in his head, he slid his hand atop Castiel’s over the bar top and slipped his fingers between the Democrat’s. 

Castiel stared at their twined hands with wide eyes. He quickly jerked his out from under Dean’s and placed it in his lap.

“I have a boyfriend,” he blurted, causing Dean’s stomach to sink in disappointment. Castiel shook his head rapidly, looking even more flustered. “Where did you expect this to go, anyway? We’re rival candidates in a presidential election. We’re from opposite parties. What did you expect to come out of this… game?” 

Dean withdrew his hand and shrugged. “Nothing, really,” he murmured. “It was just a bit of fun. I guess I thought I might get a few more votes if I showed some personality. At the very least, it made for a light-hearted election.” He side-eyed Castiel. “And I wanted to see your reaction.” 

Castiel fell quiet for a little while as he sipped his whisky and coke. “I’m not certain it’s appropriate,” he said finally.

Dean sighed and grabbed his drink in preparation to leave. “That’s fine, man. I’ll stop if you don’t like it. I was just trying to be entertaining – thought you were enjoying it.” 

He made to stand but as he did, Castiel’s hand clasped around his arm and he slowly returned to his seat, shooting the Democrat a curious gaze. 

“I… You don’t have to stop if you don’t want to. It _is_ entertaining and it might encourage more people to go out and vote.” Castiel fixed Dean with a pointed look. “As long as you understand that nothing will come out of it. Nothing _can_ come out of it.” 

With raised eyebrows, Dean nodded slowly. “Obviously. Of course.”

“Our positions in our respective parties forbid anything like that. It would be fraternisation,” said Castiel sternly. 

Dean blinked. “…And you already have a boyfriend? If it went anywhere, you’d be cheating.”

Castiel’s eyes widened and Dean nearly asked if he had forgotten about that. 

“No, of course. You’re absolutely right,” Castiel said hurriedly.

“Your boyfriend is okay with this, isn’t he?” Dean asked worriedly. “I’ve not gone too far, right? He hasn’t said anything to you?” 

Dean nearly missed Castiel’s grimace because it was so subtle. He opened his mouth to apologise but Castiel beat him to the punch. 

“Lucifer is fine with it. He knows I’m faithful to him. I just haven’t revealed anything to the public yet – I don’t want him being hounded by the press.”

“…I’m sorry; _who?”_

Castiel tugged at his sleeves again. “He had an… _unusual_ upbringing. I usually just call him Luc.”

Dean huffed an incredulous laugh. “Yeah, that sounds a lot better than _Satan_.”

“Actually, _lucifer_ just means ‘light-bringer’ and is the Latin name for the planet Venus. In Revelations, Jesus is referred to as _lucifer_ – meaning ‘the bright morning star’. So, technically the name isn’t that bad,” Castiel explained, as though he had made that argument dozens of times to people whose eyes were as round as Dean’s. 

Dean arched an eyebrow. “Out of the thousands of names his parents could have chosen, they chose that one?”

Castiel toyed with his glass like a moody toddler. “…I never said it was a good choice.” 

Dean watched Castiel abandon the glass in favour of tugging at his sleeves once more; a nervous tic, perhaps? Did he make the older man uncomfortable? He decided to take pity on Castiel, if only to distract him from his obsessive yanking on his poor sleeves. 

He turned to the bartender and signalled for another round as he casually said, “Well, your secret’s safe with me. One thing’s for certain though – Luc is a lucky guy.”

For a brief moment, Castiel frowned and glanced to Dean in confusion. “Why’s that?”

Dean lifted a mischievous eyebrow and pointedly raked his gaze over Castiel’s figure until his rival’s cheeks reddened. He grinned and winked playfully at Castiel before casting his attention to another part of the bar and feigning disinterest in the way Castiel’s lips twitched into a soft, pleased smile that he couldn’t seem to prevent. 

“I’d hardly call myself a prize,” murmured Castiel, but there was a humbled upturn to the corners of his mouth and Dean couldn’t resist the temptation of teasing him further. 

“Prizes are what you win at a six-year-old’s birthday party. I’m more likely to find you at a gallery,” he commented as their drinks arrived. 

“Are you calling me boring, Dean?” Castiel grinned, gaze beginning to sparkle just a fraction.

Dean chuckled quietly and leaned towards his rival conspiratorially. “I’m calling you a work of art, Cas.” 

He watched the Democrat grow rosy-cheeked once again and sipped amusedly at his beer. This was far more entertaining than any meaningless one-night stand. 

“I’ve had a call from Seth Meyers,” Castiel said, altering the course of the conversation with all the subtlety of a brick to the face. “He wants an interview.” 

Dean smiled and leaned against the bar casually as he swirled his beer around its glass. “For his late show? That’s a big audience. Congratulations.” 

Curiously, Castiel’s smile waned a little and a barely noticeable crease formed between his brows. “You didn’t get a call?”

“No need to rub it in,” winked Dean and he watched in fascination as the spark vanished from the Democrat’s eyes. Castiel brought his glass to his lips with a mumbled “Oh.” 

_Interesting,_ thought Dean with a barely concealed smirk. It seemed that Castiel Novak was growing rather fond of him. Dean would go so far to say that Castiel was humouring him, merely to see how long he would keep this strange game going between them. 

“Give me a date and I’ll make sure to tune in,” remarked Dean. “Wouldn’t like to miss an opportunity to see that pretty face of yours.”

Castiel floundered and Dean enjoyed every second of wide-eyed staring. Then Castiel cleared his throat loudly and set his half-finished beer on the bar top. 

“It’s getting late,” he said. “I should return to Luc.”

There was a slight grimace that Dean chose not to comment upon. Instead, he raised his glass in acknowledgement and slowly dragged his gaze over the Democrat’s body with clear intent before meeting his eyes mischievously. 

“If things don’t work out with the ruler of Hell, can I be your rebound?”

Castiel licked his lips and his eyes glittered with amusement. He reached for his wallet but before he got a chance to retrieve his card, Dean gently grasped his wrist. 

“On me,” Dean said. “Consider it appreciation for the pleasant company.”

Castiel’s gaze softened and he replaced his wallet into his pocket. “I’ve been terribly rude to you. How can you possibly think me pleasant?” 

Dean shrugged. “I just… have a good feeling about you.” He smirked coyly. “I think these next few weeks will be fun.”

Amusement danced behind Castiel’s eyes once more. “Don’t start a war you have no hope of winning, Mr. Winchester.” 

“Who said anything about a war?” Dean grinned. “This is a hostile takeover.”

“Are we still talking about the election?” 

“Mr. Novak, I was _never_ talking about the election.”

Castiel glanced down to where their fingers brushed one another on the bar top and Dean very deliberately slid his hand over the Democrat’s. He watched Castiel fight the urge to pull away before his face twisted into a smirk to mirror Dean’s. His hand remained beneath Dean’s as he leaned closer to the Republican, until Dean’s entire vision was filled by Castiel’s face. 

“Two can play at that game.”

He could feel the warmth of Castiel’s whisper on his face, could smell the hint of alcohol on his breath and the spicy cologne that the Democrat wore. Castiel’s hand was soft beneath his and the quirk of his lips sent Dean’s pulse racing. The heady aroma of liquor and _Castiel_ was intoxicating and for a moment, Dean lost all sense of logic and time and dignity as he leaned forwards to taste his rival’s mouth. 

Except, Castiel was no longer there and when Dean’s eyes snapped open, the man was already half way across the room, refusing to spare Dean even a backwards glance. 

Dean swallowed and downed his beer.

He was going to murder Benny.


	2. Chapter 2

“Before you blame me for whatever bad decisions you made last night,” began Benny as Dean barged into his office with a narrowed glare and his mouth already half-open in protest, “I’ve had a call. An invitation, actually. To a late-night talk show.” 

Dean brightened. “Meyers?”

Benny pouted and folded his arms across his chest. “Now, how did you know that? Wait, let me guess… Novak told you he also got an invitation in the bar last night?” 

It was Dean’s turn to pout. “How did _you_ know about _that?”_

“I have my sources,” snorted Benny. “Sources that tell me you tried to play tonsil tennis with him, but fortunately, he left before you even opened your eyes.” 

Dean withered under Benny’s disapproving gaze and he slumped into the seat opposite him, feeling rather like a naughty freshman who had been caught kissing the head cheerleader under the bleachers – only in this metaphor, Castiel was the cheerleader. Now there was a thought: Castiel and pom poms… 

“You sent Jo after me, didn’t you?” Dean grumbled.

“I sent Jo after you,” Benny agreed with a solemn nod before he closed whichever Tom Sharpe novel that he had been reading under the pretence of _actually working_. 

“Dammit, Benny. I’m a grown-ass man! I don’t need a babysitter!”

“Except apparently you do, because last night you tried to bag a one-night stand with Novak! Need I remind you that he is your _only_ competitor for this election?” 

Dean knew that he was sulking. Conveniently, he didn’t care. “I wasn’t trying to sleep with him! I was flirting with him because _you_ told me to!” 

“I said _flirt,_ not _pick him up at a bar and screw his brains out_. Dean, if there is one person you can’t have in this world, it’s him.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Dean snapped. “I’m just doing what you told me to do. Okay, so I lost my head for a second yesterday because it was late and there was alcohol involved. Nothing happened. I didn’t even kiss him.” 

“Do you want to?” Benny asked suddenly, eyebrows drawing downwards.

“…What?” 

“Do you want to kiss him?” Benny insisted. “Do you actually like him?”

“No. What? Of course not.” Either Dean hesitated a fraction too long or his tone was too neutral, for Benny’s brows shot upwards and he abruptly stood. 

“Scrap the flirting idea. It was a stupid brainfart. We’ll find another way to win votes.”

Dean leapt to his feet and threw a hand out to stop Benny from pacing. “Hold on a minute. It’s a great idea. It makes things more entertaining and the public love it. It’s getting us interviews and interviews mean we reach a bigger audience.” 

Benny shook his head and levelled him with a narrowed gaze. “You’re getting too invested in this. You need to step on the brakes before you accidentally fall for the guy. I’ve read enough romantic comedies to know how this ends!” 

Dean barked out a laugh. “Okay, first off, I’m never gonna fall for _Novak_ – I barely know anything about him. Second, you read romantic comedies?” 

Benny shot him a baleful glare. “Andrea acquires them and I… get bored. My reading habits aren’t the point. If you keep up flirting with Novak, you’re going to end up falling in love with him – I can practically _feel_ it. I know you, Dean Winchester; you hide your feelings with bad pickup lines and sarcasm but on the inside, you’re as soft as a toasted marshmallow.” 

“Hey, my pickup lines are smoother than a toad’s ass. This isn’t one of your romantic comedies; I’m not gonna fall in love with my _rival_ ,” Dean drawled, relishing the way Benny’s gaze narrowed even further, until he looked half-asleep. 

“You can’t screw him either.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Dude, he has a boyfriend.” _Whoops. Hadn’t Castiel told him not to reveal that to anyone?_

“A boyfriend?” Benny asked, perking up as he rounded his desk again and began scouring his drawers for files on Novak. “He’s never mentioned a boyfriend.”

Dean grimaced. “It was _supposed_ to be a secret. Cas told me not to tell anyone because he doesn’t want the press after him.”

“ _Cas?”_ Benny asked sharply, prompting Dean to sigh. 

“I give everyone nicknames, _Benjamin_. Don’t look into it too deeply.” It was only a half-lie. Cas had earned his nickname far faster than anyone else in Dean’s life and the older man hadn’t rebuked him for using it. It didn’t mean that they were going to get married though – nor did it mean that they were about to have an erotic, steamy, whirlwind affair, like Benny so clearly expected they would. 

Benny located Castiel’s file and began leafing through it until Dean splayed his hand over the page he was about to turn.

“Please don’t tell anyone about Cas’ boyfriend,” Dean said firmly, holding Benny’s gaze. 

Eventually, Benny sighed and closed the file. “Fine. But you better not have told _him_ any dirty secrets.”

“As if I’d do something so stupid. The only thing I’ve told him is that I used to be a topless waiter at Hooters.” 

Benny brandished the file at him menacingly before throwing it into the drawer and handing Dean a piece of paper from the desk that forever looked like a bomb site. The last time Dean recalled seeing the oakwood surface of Benny’s desk was when it didn’t belong to Benny. 

“That’s the details for Meyers. Now, leave before you give me an aneurism.”

“So, just to be clear, I _shouldn’t_ shove my tongue down Cas’ throat on this show?” 

“Dean Winchester, get out of my office before I throw you out via that very enticing window.”

* * *

Castiel had already been introduced and a number of his policies discussed before Dean was called onto the set. Meyers had somehow managed to convince the audience that neither candidate had known that their rival would be accompanying them on the show, but Dean could tell by the glint in Castiel’s eyes that the Democrat had expected him to come, looked forward to it even. 

Dean offered Castiel a brief smirk, which was entirely hidden from the cameras, and then turned to Meyers with indignance spilled across his features. 

“You have got to be kidding me! Seth, you never told me that _Novak_ was coming! I thought we had an understanding?” Dean fixed Meyers with a look of outrage and Meyers turned to the audience as though they were in an episode of Jerry Springer and someone was about to reveal that they were pregnant but the husband wasn’t the father. 

“Well, Mr. Winchester, we have to hear both sides of the story to make this a fair election,” Meyers crowed, encouraging a round of cheering and clapping from the audience. 

A sly smirk swept across Dean’s face and he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Well then, it’s a good thing I came prepared.” He revealed a single red rose and offered it to Castiel, bowing extravagantly as he did so. 

Meyers barked a surprised laugh and the audience laughed with him, some staring in shock and a brave few whistling loudly as Castiel carefully plucked the flower from Dean’s grip and dropped his gaze in humbled embarrassment. 

Grinning wolfishly, Dean took the padded seat beside Castiel and casually stretched an arm around the back of the Democrat’s chair, just to watch him grow red-faced. However, Castiel surprised him by deliberately leaning into his arm as he made a show of tenderly fingering the rose. 

“Hold up,” said Meyers with all the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning. “Is there actually something going on between you two? Because it’s after the watershed, so you can tell us.” He winked at the audience, coaxing a round of whooping. 

“Mr. Meyers, please. How low do you think my standards are?” Castiel asked before Dean got a chance to open his mouth. He whipped around to stare at Castiel in astonishment as the audience _ooooo_ ed at them. Meyers grinned gleefully. 

“Now, when you say that, are you referring to his aesthetics or his politics?”

Castiel turned to Dean, slow and confident and his gaze wandered over Dean’s figure with mild disinterest. Dean found himself on the edge of his seat, waiting for an answer. 

Castiel smirked coyly. “Definitely his politics.”

There were more wolf whistles and various other strange noises from the audience as Meyers wiggled his eyebrows at them suggestively. 

Dean pointedly wound his arm around Castiel’s shoulder, drawing the Democrat a fraction closer to his side. Meyers cocked an eyebrow as Castiel fought against the upturn of his own lips. 

“Are you sure that there’s nothing between you?” Meyers pressed and Dean heard genuine curiosity in his tone.

“Not yet,” purred Dean. “But I’ll win him over eventually. Perhaps he could come work for me when I’m inaugurated.” 

Castiel scoffed and pushed Dean away, but the action was gentler than Castiel had probably intended and the thought brought a smile to Dean’s face. 

“Speaking of politics,” began Meyers, “let’s get down to business.”

 _To defeat the Huns_ , Dean’s brain traitorously finished. 

“Mr. Novak revealed earlier that he plans to tackle gun crime via placing more rigorous restrictions on gun purchasing. How do you feel about that, Mr. Winchester?” Meyers asked. 

Dean crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow. “Well, the way I see it, I’ve owned a Colt for half of my life and I’ve never shot anyone with it. Restricting purchase of guns will hardly reduce crime; it’ll just force people to come into possession of a weapon illegally.” 

“In which case they can be prosecuted, thus reducing gun crime since they’ll be _in prison_ ,” Castiel quickly responded, immediately giving Dean his full attention. 

Dean glimpsed the gleam of challenge in his gaze and his blood ran hot with excitement as he swivelled to eye his opponent. Castiel lifted his chin ever-so-slightly in defiance and Dean rose to the bait like a shark to blood. Something about Castiel’s expression made determination well within Dean and he smirked at the Democrat arrogantly, like Castiel clearly wanted him to. 

“The people of America have a right to protect themselves. Why should the majority of responsible gun owners suffer because of a few irresponsible ones?” Dean argued, watching Castiel’s response form in his throat before Dean had even completed his own. 

“I’m not advocating to ban guns – although I do believe that it would significantly decrease crime statistics, as it has in Australia, the UK, Japan, and Germany – but all these _responsible_ gun owners you’re referring to shouldn’t be too affected by a few background checks, psych tests, and firearms training. They should all pass with flying colours, right?” 

Dean frowned. “And what if they don’t? Do you just disregard the second amendment if they fail a psych test?”

Castiel smirked victoriously. “If they fail a psych test, I would question whether they are of stable enough mental health to possess a gun. If a man claims that voices have told him to burn his neighbour’s house down, would you provide him with gasoline and a match?” 

“That’s a little extreme,” protested Dean. “Most people buy guns for protection, not because voices told them to shoot their neighbour.” 

“Then those people should have no problems purchasing guns under stricter laws. I don’t understand why you would protest laws that prevent mentally unstable individuals or known criminals from owning firearms,” Castiel said incredulously. 

“Because you’d have mentally _stable_ individuals and _innocent_ citizens tested and retested every few years. This country was founded upon freedom and the right to bear arms, yet you’d penalise citizens for being innocent and responsible,” Dean shot back. “Why should I agree with restricting freedom?” 

“So, your freedom to own a weapon is more important than the lives of the children in the last school shooting?” Castiel demanded viciously. “Your freedom to own a gun is more important than the last grandmother to be shot in her own home, or the last pregnant mother to have seven rounds fired into her chest because her husband wrongly believed her to be cheating? Are you really that selfish?” 

Dean resisted the urge to squirm under Castiel’s fiery gaze. “Do you know what all those scenarios had in common, Mr. Novak? People. There was a person behind all those guns. Guns don’t kill people; _people_ kill people.” 

There was a burst of angry grumbling and scoffing from the audience that startled Dean. Beside him, Castiel snorted condescendingly, so Dean interrupted before the Democrat could tear into him. 

“What I’m saying is that we should increase penalties for gun-related crime. Shoot someone in the middle of the street and you get locked up for thirty years, regardless of whether you kill them or not.” 

“Or just don’t give them a gun in the first place,” snapped Castiel. “Then no lives are lost, no injuries are caused, and prisons aren’t rammed full of pathetic, gun-slinging, Jason Bourne wannabes!” 

The audience clapped and Meyers nodded firmly, irritating Dean to unimaginable lengths. He turned to face Castiel fully, unconsciously knocking their knees together, and Castiel leaned a fraction closer as he narrowed his gaze, daring Dean to disagree. Dean’s blood boiled at the challenge in Castiel’s posture and he found himself determined to wipe the infuriating expression from his rival’s face. 

“Have you ever owned a gun, _Cas?”_ Dean asked, deliberately using the nickname to irk the Democrat. He took joy from the way Castiel’s mouth drew into a hard, thin line. 

“Never,” Castiel nearly growled and Dean found himself leaning a tad closer, needing to see every irritated twitch of Castiel’s jaw, every furious flare of his nostrils. 

“So, you want to enforce a law that doesn’t affect you? You want to take people’s only protection away because you’ve been _privileged_ enough to never have reason to protect yourself? Are you really that selfish?” Dean parroted Castiel’s earlier question back at him, watching with satisfaction as Castiel’s eyes narrowed lividly. 

“And have _you_ ever had reason to wield a gun for protection, _Dean_?”

Dean smirked smugly and held Castiel’s gaze. “As a matter of fact, I have. And if I hadn’t kept my gun in the nightstand, I probably wouldn’t be alive right now.” 

Castiel blinked and seemed to wilt a little as his brows pinched downwards. “You were threatened in your own home?”

Dean nodded, smirk widening. “Professional thief. Broke in some time after one a.m. and started rummaging through my stuff. I grabbed my Colt, threw my bedroom door open and he was standing right there, staring at me. If I hadn’t pulled my own weapon on him, I would have had a bullet between my eyes.” 

Castiel’s gaze brightened in the way a cat’s does when it spots a mouse. Dean frowned in confusion.

“The thief had a gun?” 

Dean opened his mouth to respond only for the question to sink in fully and his eyes fluttered shut as a barely audible sigh slipped past his lips at his own error. _Ah crap._

When he opened his eyes, Castiel’s gaze shone with glee and Dean nearly said “Be gentle.”

“So, your argument against background checks and psychological testing is that you need a gun for protection… against desperate criminals who wield guns?” Castiel looked as though he was holding back laughter and Dean licked his lips, knowing there was no way out of the mess he had just landed himself in. 

“…Yep,” he mumbled; cheeks rosy with humiliation.

Castiel huffed out a laugh and the rest of the audience laughed and clapped with him. Meyers grinned and Dean began to realise that the man wasn’t all that fond of Republicans. 

Dean endured the laughter for a few moments before nodding slowly. “Okay, I’m beginning to see your point,” he admitted. “Still, if we restrict guns, people will find another way to murder each other. Look at the UK’s knife crime statistics. Don’t tell me you’re gonna restrict purchasing of knives too? How am I gonna cut my steaks?” 

The audience quietened, looking to Castiel for answers. Castiel popped a sharp eyebrow.

“If you have an old coat that has a couple of holes in it and you can’t buy a new one until Monday when the shops open, do you go out in the storm without a coat because you see no point in wearing something that’ll only keep you _mostly_ dry?” 

“No, I’d wear the old coat,” said Meyers and Dean nearly snapped at him to keep quiet because Castiel had been asking _him_.

“Even though it won’t keep you _completely_ dry?” continued Castiel, gaze glued to Dean as though he had replied rather than Meyers. 

Dean licked his lips and found himself shifting closer to Castiel again; his intense gaze drawing Dean in. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to infuriate Castiel or _be_ infuriated by him. 

“Yes,” Meyers answered again and this time, Dean sent him a brief, unnoticed glare through the corner of his eye. The gesture didn’t slip past Castiel though, and he smirked cockily. 

“Deal with gun crime first, then we can focus on the other issues,” Castiel said, gaze steady and tone almost soothing.

Dean stared into cerulean pools and silently conceded the point to Castiel. He watched the Democrat raise his chin surreptitiously in victory and they held each other’s gazes for a private moment before Dean’s grin swept back into place and he threw his arm around Castiel’s shoulder once more as he turned to their host. 

Their incredibly annoying host, in Dean’s humble opinion.

“Alright, you’ve made an impressive argument. I’ll rethink it,” Dean said cheerily. 

“You’ll rethink it?” Meyers echoed as Castiel raised an amused but disbelieving eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’ll rethink it,” Dean shrugged. “I can admit that I might have been wrong. Tell me more about these checks and tests.” He glanced over to Castiel to find the Democrat gaping at him; eyes round and lips parted in surprise.

Dean chuckled and boldly closed his mouth with a gentle finger and a wink made for Castiel’s gaze only.

Castiel cleared his throat as he recovered and clicked his mouth shut again when Dean squeezed the shoulder his arm was draped around. 

“…You would change your policy just like that?” Castiel managed.

Dean offered Castiel a brilliant grin, realising he had somehow gained the upper hand. “Convince me to change it,” he challenged. “Right now.” 

Castiel’s lips parted again as Meyers asked, “Seriously?”

Dean scanned over the stunned audience and basked in Meyers’ evident shock. He threw his free hand in front of him and addressed the entire room. 

_“Convince me.”_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at bottom

“Dean Winchester, you are a genius.” 

Dean eyed Benny suspiciously from behind his own tidy-ish desk. He squinted at the southern man and leaned backwards as though ready to bolt from whatever he was about to be berated for. “Was that sarcasm?” 

Benny stared in confusion for a moment before shaking his head and closing the door behind him. He shuffled over to Dean’s desk, clutching his phone, which he seemed transfixed by. Dean gazed warily at the device when Benny thrust it towards him. Dean’s eyes narrowed to slits as he attempted to read whatever graph Benny had presented him with – he really needed to start keeping his glasses around. 

Benny rolled his eyes and snatched the phone away to explain himself. “After your interview with Meyers, your votes spiked. The gap between you and Novak hasn’t closed, but it’s certainly a start. The polls are looking a lot better. Keep this up and you might have a chance in the White House.” 

Dean perked up and flexed his fingers towards the phone. “Seriously?”

Benny handed the device over and Dean zoomed in on the graph more than he would have liked at his age. He scrolled down to read what the author’s thoughts of him were. _‘A refreshing new voice for the Republican party’_ they called him. 

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “How did this happen?”

“You changed your policy,” Benny stated. 

Dean hesitated and flicked his gaze up to his friend. “…And that’s a _good_ thing? Me changing my policy after the primaries?”

Benny grinned and perched on the edge of the desk. “It’s not about the change itself – it’s because you _listened_ to them. You listened to a view that wasn’t your own and you took it on board, admitted you were wrong, and _did something about it_. It shows you’ll listen to the public and act upon their concerns – people like to be heard.” 

Dean regarded his friend with an amused smile. “Admitted I was wrong? Never took you for a gun hater.”

The joviality drained from Benny face and his expression grew solemn. “Ol’ Ramsey was shot in the back of the head by an air gun. So, no; I’m not a fan of firearms.” 

Dean grimaced; Ramsey had been Benny’s loyal Red Setter, who had been gifted to him by his wife, Andrea, on his thirtieth birthday. He had idolised the dog; spoiled him like no other dog owner Dean knew and in return, Ramsey had been nothing but faithful. The southern man didn’t talk all that much about Ramsey’s passing but Dean had known that the poor beast hadn’t met a pleasant ending, despite his rather young age. 

“I’m sorry, man,” Dean said softly. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Benny shrugged. “Republican stereotype,” he muttered. “Thought it would be a wasted breath. Turns out I was wrong and you’re far more open-minded than I gave you credit for.” 

Dean smiled at his old friend and tried to recall the last time they had spent any time together at a bar or even one another’s house. The campaign had taken far too much of Dean’s time and he was beginning to miss his best friend. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had called his brother, Sam; the kid was probably run off his feet grading all those law students’ papers at Stanford. 

Just as Dean opened his mouth to suggest he and Benny go out that evening, his advisor levelled him with an unimpressed look and Dean bit down on his tongue in anticipation of whatever he had done wrong. 

“Although that doesn’t excuse you for eying Novak last night like you wanted to dry hump his face,” said Benny sternly and Dean choked back a laugh. 

“What are you talking about?”

A hurried type on his phone later and Benny was suddenly shoving the device in front of Dean’s face. “You’re a meme.” 

Dean mourned his forgotten glasses and squinted at the screen. “Am I a funny meme?”

There was a screenshot of last night’s interview, cropped and magnified so that only Dean and Castiel’s faces filled the image. There was barely three inches between them and they were glaring at each other; Castiel’s expression burning with fury as Dean smirked smugly at him, gaze brimming with his own underlying anger. They looked about ready to start a fight. Above the image was a line of simple black text. 

_When your bratty sub says ‘make me’…_

Dean’s brows pinched together as he returned his gaze to the image. He wasn’t too familiar with the world of BDSM but he understood a few basics. Why would the dom smirk if his sub said ‘make me’? And why would the sub be angry about it? He tilted his head at the picture, trying to make sense of it. 

“You’re the sub,” Benny huffed like some sort of psychic.

Dean mulled those words over for all of half a second before snapping his gaze up to Benny in outrage. “What?! I’m not some needy, pathetic sub!” 

“Submissives aren’t pathetic,” Benny growled far too quickly and with far too much heat. He seemed to realise what he had said and dropped his gaze. It took Dean a moment to piece things together and when he did, he cocked an eyebrow. 

“So, Andrea…?”

“Shut up, Winchester.” 

Dean bit back a grin and returned his gaze to the phone. “I’m a switch at least,” he settled on before Benny snatched his phone back with a grumble. 

“You’re definitely a sub,” Dean thought he heard his friend say and he would have contested it had the southerner not crossed his arms in displeasure. “You have got to stop staring at Novak like he’s a piece of meat.” 

“We were having an argument! About guns!”

“A really, really heated one,” Benny pointed out. “Where you looked as though you couldn’t decide whether you wanted to punch him or rip all his clothes off with your teeth.” 

“I was trying to rile him up!”

“You certainly did that.” 

“I mean I was challenging him. I wanted him all hot and bothered!”

“You did that too.” 

“I mean about his policies! I wanted to challenge his policies and get him angry!” Dean huffed in exasperation.

“Okay, well, the internet took your lusty staring to mean something else,” snorted Benny as he stood. “I’m not sure how that’s gonna affect your campaign just yet, but I do know one thing – you can’t get distracted by Novak. Not now, Dean. You’ve worked so hard and it’d be such a waste to throw all of that away. I’ve never stopped you from looking for a one-night stand, but Novak is off-limits, got it?” 

“Benny,” said Dean slowly, clearly, “I don’t want to sleep with Novak.”

Benny snorted but said nothing else as he left the office.

* * *

The next time Dean crossed paths with his rival was quarter past eleven in the evening at Seitz Park on the twenty-fifth of September. It was entirely coincidence and Dean wouldn’t have even spotted Castiel had the older man not blurted his name in surprise. 

“Dean?”

He looked up, pulling his hands from his pockets reflexively and his gaze landed on the equally shocked Castiel. 

“What are you doing here?” Castiel asked, making his way over, and Dean found himself smiling at the thought that the other man hadn’t even considered _not_ joining him. 

“My temporary residence isn’t too far from here,” Dean offered. “I take walks around this park sometimes to clear my head.”

They had both taken up temporary residence in Indiana after the primaries had ended. It seemed only logical since the first general election presidential debate was to take place in the University of Notre Dame on the twenty-ninth of September. 

Castiel nodded and tugged at his sleeves unconsciously. Dean wondered if he was nervous because it was dark and they were alone. 

“Why are you wandering around at this hour?” asked Dean softly, hoping to relax the older man and prove that he wasn’t a threat.

Castiel pulled at his sleeves again, this time seeming more aware of the movement. He licked his lips and looked away for a moment, hesitant, and Dean was about to apologise when the Democrat turned to him with a quiet sigh. 

“Luc and I had a fight.”

Dean’s gaze filled with sympathy as he remembered one too many fights with his father. It was hard to yell at a loved one – thankfully, he and his dad had always managed to come to a compromise. 

“Was it bad?” Dean asked, gesturing for Castiel to walk along the riverside with him.

Castiel gripped his right sleeve like a lifeline as he nodded. “He’s staying at a hotel nearby. I went to see him but he kicked me out.” 

With the sun long-vanished beneath the horizon and the Autumn winds beginning to pick up speed, the air was cool and Dean slid a little closer to Castiel, subconsciously seeking warmth. 

“Did he break up with you?”

“No,” Castiel murmured, sounding unhappy. “No, I don’t think so.” 

“Why’d he kick you out?”

Castiel fell silent and averted his gaze and Dean thrust his hands into his pockets. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Didn’t mean to pry.” 

Castiel remained quiet, but Dean managed a small smile when the Democrat shuffled a fraction closer to him as they fought against the cool wind. 

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all my problems anyway,” said Castiel, huffing a self-depreciating laugh. “You’ll probably use them against me in the debates.” 

Dean came to a halt and cocked an eyebrow at Castiel as the man stopped beside him. “Why would I do that?”

Castiel’s hair ruffled in the wind. “Why wouldn’t you? Your opponent can’t even keep a stable relationship, let alone a stable country.” 

Dean frowned. “Do you really believe that?”

Castiel stared at Dean curiously, as though he had never seen another creature like him. “No,” he said finally, “but I assumed that’s what you believed.” 

“I told you, Cas, I’m not gonna reveal your secret. It’s not my place to tell everyone that you’re in a relationship.”

A smile crawled across Castiel’s face and Dean was reminded of a summer sunrise. He continued walking and felt something in his chest flutter warmly when Castiel’s arm brushed his as they followed the straight path up the river. 

“You’re a very strange sort of Republican,” Castiel commented.

Dean chuckled and elbowed him playfully, smile widening when the Democrat returned to his side within seconds. 

“Could you tell my brother that? He doesn’t share the sentiment,” Dean snorted.

Castiel glanced at him curiously. “Your brother’s name is Sam, right? A college professor?” 

Dean nodded and watched a squirrel scarper up a tree trunk. “Yeah. Teaches law and says he enjoys everything except exam season. He said the same thing back when he was a student himself.” Dean shook his head fondly and made a mental note to call him in the morning before class. 

“You’re proud of him,” Castiel observed with a small smile of his own.

Dean grinned and glanced over at his rival. “I am. He’s a smart kid – much smarter than me.” He smirked devilishly. “Well, in everything except his politics.” 

Castiel’s brow creased for a moment before the epiphany struck. “He’s a Democrat?”

Dean nodded and laughed at Castiel’s slack jaw. “He simultaneously loves and hates that I’m running for president.” 

Castiel huffed out a laugh of wonder as he shook his head. “I’ll bet your house is fun at Christmas.”

Dean shot him a grin, which was easily returned. “You got any brothers?” 

“No brothers or sisters,” Castiel hummed. “I was apparently _privileged.”_

“Alright, I deserved that one,” conceded Dean as he thought back to the accusation he had made on Meyers’ show. He didn’t take the comment too harshly considering the way Castiel’s arm pressed into his as they walked. 

“I’m still surprised,” confessed Castiel. “About the way you changed your policy. I didn’t think you’d allow me to finish my argument, let alone alter your own stance.” He caught Dean’s gaze, looking perplexed. “Why did you do that?” 

“You made a compelling argument,” said Dean. “And a logical one. What kind of president would I be if I didn’t listen to opinions other than my own?” 

Castiel stared at him in amazement before he shook his head. “You’re making it very difficult for me to hate you, Winchester.”

A laugh erupted from Dean’s throat as he threw his head back. “I’m… sorry?” 

Smile blossoming, Castiel tossed an enthusiastic hand into the air. “You should be! Democrats and Republicans aren’t supposed to like each other. We’re supposed to make petty accusations about emails and one another’s fitness to serve.” 

“Everyone expects that though,” Dean winked. “We should try a different angle: unconditional supportiveness.”

Clearly caught off-guard, Castiel laughed loudly and startled a small sparrow into flight. Dean pretended not to notice the way his rival’s eyes glittered under the bright moonlight. 

“You want me to support my only opponent in this election?”

“Why not?” Dean said with a shrug. “I’d be happy with you in the White House. Can you say the same about me?” 

Castiel’s amusement dissipated and he stared at Dean strangely. “…Did you just admit to not minding if you lose the election?”

“I guess I’d be sad about the loss, but I wouldn’t mind if it’s you who I’m losing to,” explained Dean. “After all, I’d have voted for you if I wasn’t running myself.” 

Castiel’s lips parted before he clamped them firmly shut again and dropped his gaze. “You’re a very honest man, Dean,” he whispered. “A very _good_ man. This election isn’t going how I thought it would.” 

“Why? Because I’m starting to catch up to your impressive mass of votes?” Dean teased, but Castiel shook his head slowly and met his gaze. 

“Despite knowing your intentions are to win voters over with your charm and outrageous flirting, I find myself wanting to play along. I wasn’t expecting to have fun in these interviews and debates, yet I have quickly learned to look forward to your company. I should dislike you, and yet…” 

Castiel came to a stop and Dean halted beside him, regarding him in silence as an affectionate smile played about his lips. He had been smiling a lot around Castiel recently. 

Castiel’s gaze trailed to his lips and Dean raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise before the Democrat looked away guiltily. Dean was neither dumb nor blind, but he would let the action slide and never mention it to anyone; Castiel’s mind was in a low place after his boyfriend had booted him out and it was obvious that whatever attraction Castiel held for him would never be acted upon. 

Still, the hint that there even _was_ an attraction, however minute, was a boost to Dean’s ego.

“You’re infuriating,” mumbled Castiel eventually, gaze glued to his shoes. “And although it pains me to admit it, I wouldn’t be too upset losing to you either.” He lifted his chin slightly in a show of defiance and smirked. “But that won’t ever happen.” 

A grin swept over Dean’s features and they continued their destination-less saunter. “Is that a challenge, Novak?”

“Why, I do believe it is, Winchester.” 

“Challenge accepted,” purred Dean as he snaked his arm around his rival’s waist.

Castiel casually leaned into his side and Dean’s breath stuttered at how _right_ that felt. He tightened his grip instinctively and blew out a long, silent breath when Castiel practically melted against him. They came to their third pause of the evening and Dean wasn’t certain if they were playing a game or not anymore. 

Castiel appeared torn and he whirled around until he and Dean were practically chest-to-chest, their faces mere inches from one another. 

“... A couple of weeks ago, at the bar,” began Castiel, voice low and almost shy, “you leaned towards me.” Dean’s gaze followed the nervous movement of his tongue as it darted out between plump, pink lips, and Castiel tilted even closer, until Dean could smell that familiar cologne and the sharp scent of coffee on his breath. His head moved of its own accord towards his rival and Castiel stared at him with big, sparkling, sapphire eyes and raised a hand to cup his cheek. His thumb brushed over Dean’s stubble and Dean’s heart reached a gallop as he gently pulled their bodies together, until Castiel’s warmth was plastered against him. 

“Were you going to kiss me that night?” Castiel breathed as their noses touched.

“Yes,” confessed Dean with a whisper as his right hand rode from Castiel’s waist, up his spine, and finally curled around the back of his rival’s neck. Castiel’s entire body shuddered at the movement and he stared at Dean lustfully as he bumped their noses together and parted his lips. 

“Do you want to kiss me now?”

“More than anything,” Dean nearly growled as his left hand splayed possessively over the small of his rival’s back. Their lips were _so_ close. If Dean just tilted his head… 

“Tell me how much you want me,” Castiel breathed, their lips nearly brushing as his hand slid from Dean’s cheek to tangle in his hair instead. 

“That much,” Dean growled as he slipped his hand over Castiel’s ass and tugged him tight against his body until the Democrat could feel the hard tent in his jeans. He didn’t miss the bulge in Castiel’s trousers either. 

A breathy sound fell from Castiel’s throat and he fisted Dean’s hair, and the Republican grew even harder at the noise.

“Want you,” Dean whispered, desperate to press their mouths together. “Want to taste you.” 

Castiel shifted to brush his lips against Dean’s ear. “…You really are a sub.”

The Democrat tore himself away from Dean with a shit-eating grin and a wink, and Dean’s fantasy came crashing down around him. Castiel snickered at his look of devastation. 

“I told you two could play this game,” Castiel drawled with a cocky smirk. “You didn’t think I was really going to let you put your filthy Republican paws all over me, did you? In the middle of a park, no less?” he teased. 

Pout growing, Dean crossed his arms and tried to scrape up what little dignity he had left. “You’re a convincing actor. That was cruel – you know I think that you’re the sexiest man alive.” 

Castiel’s grin softened as though humbled and Dean briefly imagine what it would be like to press a kiss to those smiling lips.

“You started it,” Castiel pointed out childishly. “You’re the one who wanted to flirt.” 

“Yeah, but I wasn’t the only one with a hard-on just moments ago,” Dean huffed, flicking his gaze to Castiel’s crotch and back up to his face. 

It was Castiel’s turn to become red-cheeked as he spluttered protests. “You… I… You pressed up against me! It was just friction! I… It’s a natural response!” 

Dean grinned. “You’re attracted to me,” he stated matter-of-factly. “You think I’m hot too.”

“ _Everyone_ thinks you’re hot,” said Castiel defensively. “And I am _not_ attracted to you.” 

Dean casually licked his lips and watched as Castiel’s eyes tracked the movement. He laughed warmly. “You are _so_ attracted to me!” 

Castiel looked ready to protest but quickly clamped his mouth shut. “Maybe a little,” he grumbled.

Dean fist-pumped the air like a seven-year-old, enticing a begrudging smile out of his rival. When Castiel didn’t unfold his arms, Dean shook his head with a grin and tucked the Democrat into his side again, since they had both seemed to enjoy it earlier and the cold was beginning to seep into his skin. He guided them both along the river as he said, “I’m just fooling around. I know this can’t go anywhere. I just… I like you, man. I shouldn’t, but I do, and I guess I forgot I can’t have you for a moment.” 

Castiel stared at his shoes as he walked. “You’re very honest, Dean.”

Dean shrugged. “I feel like I can be honest with you. Thanks for not freaking out.” 

“I’m honoured you trust me,” Castiel frowned, as if he couldn’t understand why Dean _would_ trust him. “And flattered that you think I’m attractive.” 

“Attractive?” Dean chuckled. “Cas, I don’t just find you attractive. I think you’re gorgeous. I think your eyes are as deep as oceans and your lips as sinful as lust itself. I think your body is as strong and powerful as your mind and I think that your heart is bigger and softer than any teddy bear. I think you’re clever and witty and I can’t help but smile when you laugh, because the corners of your eyes wrinkle and you practically _shine_. I get all hot and flustered when we argue because you’re so righteous when you speak of things you’re passionate about and you make my blood boil when you tease and poke fun at me because I can’t decide whether I want to yell at you or listen to you tease me some more. And when you start flirting back… well…” Dean trailed off with a shake of his head. Then he frowned; maybe Benny had been onto something about him wanting to sleep with Castiel… 

He was broken out of reverie by Castiel’s sharp curse and he startled when the Democrat suddenly pulled free of his light hold. Castiel’s face fell into his hands despairingly. “I can’t do this.” 

Dean’s heart dropped into his stomach and he shifted his weight awkwardly from foot to foot. “…I’m sorry, Cas. I didn’t mean to-”

“No one has ever spoken of me like that,” Castiel interrupted. “You barely know me. I barely know you. How can you have formed that sort of opinion of me in only one month?” 

Dean blinked. “I… uh… I don’t know. I guess I just… paid a lot of attention?”

Castiel shook his head incredulously. “This shouldn’t be so easy,” he murmured. 

“…What shouldn’t be easy?”

“This!” Castiel shouted, gesturing frantically between them both. “Us! Whatever’s happening here!” He ran a fevered hand through his hair. “I know I shouldn’t trust you, but I do. I shouldn’t find it so easy to just… talk to you. I shouldn’t _want_ to be around you, and yet ever since I spoke to you on CNN, I can’t get my mind off you! You keep finding new ways to surprise me and I should _hate_ it because it means you’re unpredictable and that means that you’re a threat to my campaign… but I _love_ guessing what you’re going to do next. I _love_ that you’re unpredictable and I _love_ that you challenge me on live television and it leads to such deep discussions. I don’t want it to end and I should be worried about that, but I’m not.” 

Dean watched Castiel scrub his hands down his face and he winced a little, unable to rid his mind of the guilt that had crept in during his rival’s monologue. He edged towards the stressed Democrat and reached out to still his erratic movements, but Castiel suddenly fixed him with a suspiciously glassy gaze. 

“Do you promise that I can trust you?” he demanded quietly.

Dean straightened, sensing the rapidly growing tension between them. He longed to grab Castiel’s hand but merely nodded in fear of anything more spooking the older man. 

Castiel bit his lip as he eyed Dean severely. “Promise me, Dean,” he growled.

“I promise,” Dean said, lightly grasping one of Castiel’s hands as he stepped closer. “Cas, I swear you can trust me.” 

He was alarmed when the Democrat’s eyes glistened with tears and he gripped Dean’s hand tight enough to leave marks.

“Cas!” he yelped as he cupped the Democrat’s cheek and drew him closer into a protective hold. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Cas gasped, breaths stuttering. “Dean, I can’t get out. I can’t leave.”

“Leave what?” Dean asked frantically as he wrapped his arms around Castiel. “What can’t you get out of? The campaign? Is someone blackmailing you? Cas, tell me. I can help. I’ll do everything I can to help.” 

“Lucifer,” Castiel almost whimpered as he shook his head. “Dean, I can’t.”

Dean licked his lips as his brow creased. He didn’t fully understand what Castiel was getting at. “I… Has he said something to you? Is it the flirting? I can stop if it’s upsetting him. I can apologise if that’s what he wants. I’ll leave you alone.” 

“No,” begged Castiel as he clutched at the Republican’s shirt. Suddenly, he yanked the cuff of his sleeve above his elbow and Dean promptly forgot how to breathe. 

Two angry, red, circular marks were engraved into Castiel’s forearm. The skin was broken and inflamed and looked incredibly painful. Above and around those marks were older scars of varying shapes and sizes – some thin and narrow like slices from a blade, and others large and yellowish, like faded bruises. 

“…Cas,” Dean choked as he stared in horror.

Cas ripped away from him and untucked his shirt and began to unbutton the bottom of it. He lifted the left side to reveal more faded bruises and scars as well as a fresh red welt stretching diagonally from his stomach to his ribs. 

“They’re everywhere,” Castiel whispered as he quickly buttoned himself back up and hid his damaged skin from view. A distorted sob slipped out of his throat. “He waited until I stripped. He pretended he wanted to do a scene with me and he made me strip. He pushed me onto the bed and told me to close my eyes and I did. I trusted him even though I know I shouldn’t. Even though I know what he’s capable of. I just lay there with my eyes shut like a _fool_ and he took off his belt and struck me. I could tell that it wasn’t part of a scene. I tried to get away from him but he pinned me down and grabbed his cigarette and held it against my arm. He did that twice as he accused me of wanting to sleep with you.” 

Castiel swallowed and shook his head desperately. “He’s beaten me plenty of times for other things. He’s poured boiling water on me. He’s pressed my hand against a hot hob. He once carved into my legs with broken glass and said that if I ever told anyone, he’d leak a sex tape he made of us that showed one of our heavier scenes. He told me that he’d ruin my career – that he’d make me unemployable before carving up my face so no one would ever look at me again. He threatened to cut out one of my eyes.” 

Castiel began to shake and Dean held him against his chest protectively.

“I don’t know what to do,” Castiel choked as he buried his face into Dean’s neck. “I can’t leave. I can’t get out. Dean, I… I need help. I’m terrified of him. I know I shouldn’t have told you but I… I can’t help but feel safe with you. Please… tell me what to do. Tell me how to escape without him ruining my life,” he begged around fat tears. 

Dean swore and rubbed Castiel’s back comfortingly as his rival began to hyperventilate.

“Sshh… sshh, Cas… I’m here. You’re safe. I promise you’re safe with me.” He pressed his lips to Castiel’s sweaty forehead and his heart splintered at the wrecked sound his rival made. 

“You’re gonna come home with me tonight, okay?” Dean whispered against Castiel’s forehead. “You’re gonna come home with me and you’re gonna have a hot drink and then, I’m gonna have a look at those cigarette burns, okay?” 

Castiel shook his head, jaw clenched with a combination of fear and stress. “No. No, we can’t. I can’t be seen at your house by the press. We can’t-” 

“Screw the press,” growled Dean. “You’re more important. You’re shaking like a leaf and you’re absolutely _terrified_. If the press catches us and makes a big stink over it, I’ll drop out of the race.” 

Castiel’s eyes were like saucers. “You can’t just drop out of the race over this!”

“I’d do anything if it meant keeping you safe,” Dean said with far too much sincerity for a man he had only spoken to over the past month, but he realised that he meant it. Something drew him to Castiel like a naïve moth to a flame and he had a feeling he was already too invested in his rival. 

Castiel shook even more violently, so Dean wrapped himself around him as he stroked his hair.

“You stay at my place tonight. Heck, stay the entire week. Stay until you feel up to leaving and then, only if you want to,” whispered Dean. “Promise me one thing though?” 

Castiel stared up at him with a watery gaze.

“Promise me you won’t ever go back to him,” Dean murmured. 

Castiel stiffened. “I have to! He’ll release the tape! He’ll come after me! Even if I have him arrested, he’ll set his friends on me and-” 

“Alright,” whispered Dean. “Alright. We’ll sort through it all tomorrow. Come home with me, Cas.”

Castiel licked his lips nervously before nodding like an innocent child. “Okay, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Domestic abuse
> 
> This is complete, but it's a bit lengthy to upload in one go. Hope you enjoy~


	4. Chapter 4

Dean exhaled in relief when he realised that the back entrance to his property was clear of cameras and enthusiastic journalists. He squeezed Castiel’s hand reassuringly and tugged him in through the back door. He locked up behind them and led Castiel upstairs and into the bathroom, where the first aid kit lived, waiting for its moment of heroism. 

Despite his distress, Castiel perched on the toilet lid and managed to look around curiously. Dean’s bathroom was spacious and whilst the walls and floor were composed of grey tiles made to look like stone, everything else was a pristine white or earthy brown. Dean thought the place looked somewhat like a grotto. 

“For the pain,” Dean murmured as he offered Castiel a box of paracetamol. “There’s a clean glass on the sink.”

Castiel was quiet as he padded around Dean’s bathroom and he took the pills without protest. When he returned to the toilet, Dean held up a tube of aloe vera. 

“How long ago did they happen?” he asked softly. “Did you run them under cold water?”

“Half an hour before I saw you,” mumbled Castiel, staring at his covered arm. “And yes. I used the hotel’s public bathroom.” 

Dean nodded and gently rolled Castiel’s sleeve up to reveal the little burns. He applied aloe vera gel to each wound before retrieving a roll of non-adhesive bandage to wrap around Castiel’s arm. Once he was finished, Castiel flexed his arm and inspected the bandage silently. 

“No scratching,” Dean said sternly and Castiel’s hands fell limp by his sides like a scolded schoolboy.

“Come on,” Dean murmured as he offered his hand. “I’ll show you the spare room.” 

Castiel gripped his hand and didn’t release it once he was standing. Dean was more than happy with the arrangement as he led the other man through his temporary residence. 

“You hungry?” Dean asked as Castiel glanced about his lodgings. “Thirsty?”

“No,” mumbled Castiel before he turned to Dean. “Thank you,” he whispered sincerely. “You didn’t have to help me.” 

Dean squeezed his hand again and instead of gracing that comment with a reply, he stated, “You’re safe here, Cas. I promise.”

Castiel managed a grateful smile and cast his gaze to their intertwined hands. 

“I have to go back to him,” Castiel muttered after a couple of moments. “If I don’t, he or his friends will come after me.” Castiel shook his head bitterly. “I don’t even know who his friends are.” 

Dean slid his palm over Castiel’s cheek and smiled sadly as his rival leaned into him, eyes fluttering shut. “We’ll work all that out tomorrow, okay? You need rest. Want to borrow some PJs?” 

Castiel opened his mouth to disagree but seemed to change his mind. “Please,” he said shyly and Dean wondered how anyone could hurt the innocent man in front of him. 

He drew away from Castiel, heart aching when his rival was reluctant to release his hand. He wondered when Castiel had last been treated gently. 

He returned to the room with a set of long-sleeved black pyjamas and the appreciation in Castiel’s gaze was noticeable.

“I… I have no idea how to thank you,” Castiel confessed. 

“You don’t have to,” Dean replied. “Sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

He closed Castiel’s door behind him to allow the other man to change in privacy. Mind working too fast to be able to sleep himself, Dean pottered around the house, tidying up what little was out of place. When there was nothing left to tidy, he changed into his nightwear and plopped onto the couch to read, but found himself unable to focus, so he put the book away and stared past the far wall as he contemplated Castiel’s options. He thought and thought and thought, wondering how to save Castiel from the nightmare of his abusive relationship. 

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he whipped around to face the door, sensing someone observing him. He wasn’t sure he could fight a ghost in his PJs and his hand twitched towards the remote, ready to hurl it at the angry spirit.

Castiel blinked back sheepishly as he toyed with his own hands.

“Everything alright, Cas?” Dean asked calmly as he pretended that he wasn’t tired enough to assume Castiel had been a spirit set on haunting him.

The Democrat swallowed and opened his mouth a few times before dropping his gaze to his socked feet. “I… I can’t… Could you… I know it’s improper, but…” He raised his humiliated gaze to Dean, throat stuck around the question he so desperately wanted to ask. 

Dean stood and made his way over with a concerned expression. “What is it?”

Castiel shifted his weight and looked away in embarrassment. “I don’t want to be alone.” 

Dean fell silent in astonishment and Castiel met his gaze ashamedly. “More specifically… I’d like to be with you.”

Automatically snaking his arm around Castiel’s waist as his soul filled with affection, Dean tucked him into his side as he led them towards his own bedroom. There was a soft sigh of relief from Castiel as he melted into Dean and Dean ushered him under the covers and slid in after him. He plastered himself against Castiel’s back and slid his arms around his middle, but before he got a chance to press his nose into the man’s neck, Castiel rolled over to face him and wrapped his own arms around Dean as he burrowed into the Republican’s chest. 

Dean squeezed him protectively, heart hammering against his ribcage and echoing with songs of joy as Castiel squeezed back gratefully.

He stroked Castiel’s hair until he was certain that his rival was asleep and then he rested his chin atop the dark head and began to plan.

* * *

Sometime before six a.m., the mattress dipped and Dean scowled as Castiel attempted to escape from his arms. He held fast and Castiel stilled. 

“Stay,” Dean whispered. “Please.”

“I shouldn’t.” 

“I want you to.”

Castiel carefully pressed into Dean once more and they clung to each other until a more reasonable hour.

* * *

“I should never have told you,” was the first thing Castiel said as Dean was catapulted into wakefulness. 

Dean frowned and allowed Castiel to wriggle out of his grip. He watched the Democrat swing his legs over the edge of the bed and perch there with his back to Dean and his head low and his tone full of regret. Dean sat upright to regard him. 

“You’re going to reveal it all at the debate on Tuesday and I’ll lose the election because I was soft and stupid and _pathetic_ ,” growled Castiel, hands clenching into fists on his lap. “A couple of tiny burns and I’ve ruined everything in a single night. All that hard work _wasted_.” 

“Cas-”

“Save it,” hissed Castiel. “Spare me what little dignity I have left and I’ll pull out of the race before Tuesday. I’ll pretend there’s been a family emergency or something. I’ll tell them that I can’t handle the stress. I’ll-” 

“Cas, hold on a second-”

“ _Screw you,”_ Castiel snapped angrily as he whirled on Dean. “Screw you for being so kind to me! Screw you for making me feel safe! Screw you for making me trust you!” Castiel lunged to his feet and waggled an accusing finger at Dean. “Out of all the people I could have told, you’re the only one I even considered. My _opponent_ in the most important contest I’ve ever taken part in. The one man who can ruin _everything_ for me.” He shook his head bitterly. “I just had to tell you, didn’t I? And on Tuesday, you’ll tell the world and my disaster of a life will collapse because I couldn’t stay quiet until November. If I had just waited for election day...” 

“Novak!” Dean snarled as he leapt out of bed and glared at his rival. Castiel whipped his gaze to Dean in surprise and bristled as the Republican rounded the bed and stood a mere few feet in front of him. “How dare you accuse me of taking advantage of your abusive relationship!” Dean seethed. “How dare you pull out of the most important race in the U.S. because you think I’m enough of a jerk to reveal the secrets you entrusted me with!” 

Castiel glowered at him with all the heat and intensity of a wildfire. “You want to win the election, don’t you? Why wouldn’t you take advantage?” 

The Republican advanced on the Democrat like a lion about to take on a tiger, his face laden with fury. “Because despite what you obviously believe, I’m not an evil asshole!” 

“You’re a Republican,” spat Castiel as Dean stepped into his personal space and narrowed his eyes. “You’re just pretending to care so you can win votes. That’s what your kind does – you cheat and lie and scheme until everything works out for you. That’s what you’ve done to me. You pretended to care so I’d trust you and now I get to pay the price for my naivety.” 

“You know what? Go screw yourself,” snarled Dean, face inches away from Castiel’s because even though the man irritated every fibre of his being, he was like a magnet drawing Dean in. Dean hated that he couldn’t break free of the _need_ to be close to his rival. “Even better – go back to your toxic boyfriend and let him screw you! Let him use your skin as an ash tray!” 

Castiel shoved at him roughly and Dean grabbed his wrists.

“Bastard!” Castiel hissed lividly. “I knew it was all an act! I was stupid to trust you!” He managed to shove Dean again and they stumbled until Dean’s back hit the wall. Dean gripped Castiel’s wrists in a vice-like hold. 

“I was an idiot to think you attractive,” Dean sneered. “I was stupid to believe that you were a good person and now I see how bitter and cold that black little heart of yours is. Maybe you should pull out. Who’d want this country led by a cruel, emotionless machine?” 

Castiel slammed Dean against the wall again and Dean cursed before flipping their positions and pinning his rival’s hands either side of his head. 

“I hate you,” Castiel whispered furiously. “I despise you more than you’ll ever know.”

Dean leaned closer until the tips of their noses brushed. “I made a plan last night,” he hissed. “I made a plan to keep you safe but now I’m thinking _screw the plan_. For all I care, you can run back to Lucifer and let him carve pretty pictures into your skin with shards of glass. You don’t want help – you just wanted me to feel sorry for you. You wanted to make a fool of me.” 

“I begged for your help because I felt safe with you,” growled Castiel lowly as Dean pressed up against him. “But now I see who you really are. I know what kind of monster you are. I’ll make sure you _never_ run this country, Winchester.” 

Dean slammed his lips into Castiel’s. He tightened his grasp around his rival’s wrists as Castiel struggled against him.

“I hate you,” snarled Castiel against his mouth. “Let me go, you sick son of a bitch!” 

Dean pulled away and suddenly, Castiel’s hand was in his hair, tugging harshly as he crushed their mouths together and groped Dean’s ass. 

“Shut up,” Dean hissed. “Shut up and get out of my house.” He rammed his tongue into Castiel’s mouth and splayed a possessive hand over his back as the other curled around his rival’s neck. 

Their tongues collided and claimed one another as their hips rocked together. Castiel pushed Dean away with a growl.

“I’m trying to,” he snapped. “I don’t want to see you ever again.” 

He didn’t budge from his spot on the carpet, so Dean attacked and claimed his mouth hard and merciless, and Castiel clutched his shirt and nipped at his lips possessively. 

“I hate you,” Dean growled against Castiel’s mouth. “I hate every second I’m with you.” He tugged Castiel’s body flush with his own and shifted to suck at his throat instead. 

A soft groan of approval tumbled from Castiel’s lips and he gripped Dean’s hips as he rubbed their erections together through the soft material of their pyjamas. 

“Leave me alone,” Castiel managed as Dean sucked at his collar bone. “I don’t want this. I don’t want you.”

Dean suddenly tore away from Castiel, gaze glazed, lips spit-slicked and swollen, and pyjamas tented at the crotch. Castiel stepped forward to pull Dean back in, but Dean placed a firm hand on his chest. 

“Do you mean that?” he asked tiredly. “Do you really not want this? Do you not want me?”

“No,” Castiel said vehemently as he grabbed Dean’s shirt. “I don’t want you.” He attempted to tug Dean in to continue what they had started, but Dean stood his ground. 

“Dean,” Castiel whined but still, the Republican stood as solid as stone. Castiel’s expression filled with hurt and betrayal and he released Dean’s shirt. 

“…Don’t you want this?”

“Not if you don’t,” said Dean quietly, brokenly. He looked away and felt like a fool. “Not if you can’t say it.” 

Castiel fell silent for a long minute. “Don’t tell me you took any of what I said to be true?”

Dean glance at him from the corner of his eye. “No. Not until you said you don’t want me.” 

Castiel sagged and gently curled his fingers around Dean’s hand. “I want you even though I shouldn’t,” Castiel confessed quietly. “I want you to kiss me until I forget the taste of Lucifer’s lips. I want you to hold me and touch me until I forget the feeling of his hands. I wish I was yours, not his.” 

A shy smile blossomed over Dean’s features and he pulled Castiel into his embrace and marvelled at how his rival moulded against him perfectly. 

“I wish this wasn’t so complicated,” Castiel sighed. “I wish this could work.” His forehead fell against Dean’s and Dean frowned and pressed their lips together tenderly until Castiel managed a lopsided smile. 

They held each other as they kissed, affectionate and comforting and apologetic for their rough handling of one another.

“It can work,” Dean murmured in between gentle kisses. “We can make it work.” 

A weary sigh tumbled from Castiel’s lips as he pulled away from Dean and shook his head. “Be realistic,” he mumbled as he closed his eyes. “It isn’t right. It will never be right and we can’t allow it to progress. If it ever got out that we had an affair – whilst I was already in a relationship, no less…” 

“An unhappy one,” Dean bit out as he gathered the Democrat into his arms and slotted their mouths together as though he hadn’t considered _not_ tasting his rival. “An abusive one,” he murmured against Castiel’s lips. 

Castiel carefully pushed Dean onto the bed, lips still connected and hands tangled in hair or clothes. They crawled up to the pillows in what was probably a very ungraceful manner, but it didn’t matter because they _needed_ to touch each other; to feel another warm body against their own. 

Palms sailed down cheeks and fingers arced around necks or thrust into hair. “I could take care of you,” Dean whispered against kiss-swollen lips as his hand rode down his rival’s back and settled over his ass as though it belonged there. “Make you feel good.” His free hand crept under Castiel’s shirt and splayed protectively over his spine. 

Castiel’s tongue plunged into his mouth and slid wetly against his. Morning breath didn’t seem to matter when Castiel’s weight was on top of him and they were trying their hardest to steal air from one another’s lungs. It was disappointing when Castiel pulled back slightly to regard him. 

“This is wrong,” he said sadly.

“Don’t care,” Dean mumbled as he drew his opponent in for another deep kiss. Castiel didn’t resist and he held onto Dean tightly as they explored one another’s mouths. Dean’s heart soared. 

“I have a plan,” Dean said when they separated for air. “To keep you safe.”

Castiel’s smile was fond and affectionate and his gaze sparkled with admiration. “Of course you do.” He sealed their lips together again, as though he couldn’t fight the undeniably profound bond between them. 

“I’ll need to ask you some questions about Lucifer,” Dean continued as he trapped Castiel against his chest and nipped his lips. Castiel responded just as enthusiastically. 

“Fine,” he murmured as he settled heavily against Dean and stole another kiss, which Dean leaned into eagerly.

Suddenly, Dean rolled Castiel onto his back and captured his lips desperately before gazing down at him with a grin. Mirroring the expression, Castiel tugged him down to ravish his mouth. 

“Ask away.”

* * *

The rest of the morning was spent showering, brushing teeth, and eating breakfast, with a healthy dose of pinning one another to every available surface and devouring each other’s mouths. They silently agreed that anything more would be inappropriate considering their political positions (or at least, Castiel believed that and Dean respected his wishes), but that wasn’t to say that they didn’t engage in a bit of clothed canoodling when the kissing wasn’t quite enough. 

Dean currently had Castiel pressed against the back door, sharing a filthy, open-mouthed kiss over the Democrat’s shoulder as he rocked his hips into Castiel’s pert ass like the beginning of a B-rated porno. 

Castiel had stated his intentions to leave over an hour ago, but had since been distracted in various rooms and against a multitude of surfaces. 

For his part, Dean couldn’t stop touching his rival. Castiel tasted like coffee and waffles from breakfast and his body folded perfectly against Dean’s. Now, Dean had experienced a fair share of one-night stands, but he had never _craved_ their touch as much as he did Castiel’s. He had never arched into their wandering fingers as though he had never felt warmth before. He had never swallowed their quiet groans and gentle gasps as though he couldn’t breathe without them.

None of his partners had ever responded in the way Castiel did either. None of them clutched at him as though they didn’t want anyone else to have him. None of them whimpered his name like a prayer – as though his touch was their salvation. Not even his high school sweetheart had done that.

Dean had heard of instantaneous connections between people; of sparks between strangers, but what he felt with Castiel was an untameable fire. Whatever this was couldn’t be described by a mere attraction – it was something far more intense; something borne from desperation and passion and animalistic _need_.

Castiel abruptly turned in his hold and plastered himself against the door, dragging Dean closer until they were flush with one another from feet to mouths. The Democrat’s hands clutched at the Republican’s hair and clawed at his back as Dean’s own hands curled around his rival’s waist and wandered up his shirt to claim hot skin.

Whatever draw Dean felt, Castiel obviously felt too.

The door rattled quietly as Dean rutted against Castiel’s tented trousers and Castiel shifted to nip at his rival’s throat. Dean made an approving sound when Castiel slapped a hand over his ass and rocked harder against his crotch, until the increased friction made them grunt. 

Dean’s thumb caught a nipple and Castiel sucked at his throat in encouragement, prompting Dean to scrape his nail over the nub firmly, over and over until Castiel squeezed his ass desperately. 

Dean’s hips snapped forward almost reflexively and Castiel groaned as his own rump slammed into the door. He jerked Dean closer and with an approving growl, Dean rammed his hips into his rival’s mercilessly, pace accelerating at the repeated _thud_ of Castiel’s ass against the door. 

Castiel’s mouth returned to his and they had a small, vicious war before Dean snatched Castiel’s wrists and pinned them above his head as he continued his relentless hip pounding. 

A moment later, Castiel shoved Dean away, breathless and sweaty and with a definite bulge in his trousers. He stared at Dean hungrily as his chest heaved and Dean nearly pounced on him again to finish the job, but Castiel’s head fell against the door as his eyes fluttered shut, and Dean knew that Castiel planned on leaving soon. 

Still, he palmed himself through his jeans unabashedly as he drank in the sight of Castiel’s flushed skin and swollen lips. Castiel cracked an eye open and chuckled warmly, and Dean was helpless against the instinct to close the distance between them. He kissed his rival soundly on the lips and Castiel smiled against his mouth and rubbed teasingly at Dean’s aching erection. Dean rocked gently against his palm and whined when Castiel carefully pushed him away again. 

“I need to go,” Castiel said quietly, apologetically.

Dean’s smile faded and he nodded as he cupped his rival’s cheek. “Be careful, Angel.” The endearment hadn’t stopped at his brain like Dean had intended and Castiel cocked an eyebrow at him in amusement as Dean’s cheeks grew rosy. 

“I will,” Castiel murmured as his feather-light touch grazed Dean’s chest. “Thank you, Dean. For everything.”

Dean’s brows pinched downwards with concern. There was too much uncertainty with the plan; too many opportunities for Castiel to get hurt. He watched Castiel grab his jacket and he crept up on the Democrat and slipped his hand into his pocket. Castiel whirled on him, a protest on his lips when Dean snatched his phone. 

“What’s your passcode?”

Castiel didn’t hesitate despite his frown. “Eleven-zero-three-twenty-twenty.” 

Dean grinned. Election day.

He typed his number into Castiel’s contacts under the name ‘Batman’ and returned the device. Castiel cocked an eyebrow. 

“If anything goes wrong, you call me, okay? If he even looks at you weirdly, you call me and I’ll drop everything,” Dean said, unsurprised at himself as the promise rolled off his tongue. “I mean it. I need to know you’re safe.” 

Castiel’s eyes widened and filled with awe and shock and other emotions that Dean pretended not to recognise. Castiel cast his gaze to his phone. 

“…Is this even legal? Me having your private number? Surely, there’s some sort of rule against it?”

Dean shrugged and a smile crept onto Castiel’s features. He poked at his phone a few times and Dean’s own mobile dinged in the living room. 

“Call me?” Castiel smirked, winking suggestively.

Dean beamed and slid his hands over his rival’s hips. “Parents aren’t home. Come over.” 

Castiel laughed softly and rubbed his palms over Dean’s arms. “Why do I feel like giving you my number was a terrible mistake?”

Dean smirked like an anime villain. “Oh, it definitely was.” 

Castiel didn’t resist as Dean tugged him into his arms. He settled against the Republican’s chest as Dean nuzzled into his neck.

“Don’t let him hurt you,” Dean mumbled after a minute or so, humour draining from his tone. “Promise you’ll call me if he tries to.” 

“…I promise,” Castiel whispered before he pushed away from Dean and lowered his gaze. “You know this can’t happen again, right?” 

Dean wilted. “Yeah.” It was a lie, but he knew that Castiel didn’t _want_ it to happen again, and Dean would respect that even if he had to mourn the loss with a decanter of whisky.

“I’ve loved every second with you,” Castiel said sincerely as he flicked his attention to Dean’s face. “I mean that. You’re… You’re a wonderful man, Dean. You make me feel things I thought I’d never experience again. You make me…” He trailed off, seeming to struggle for the right word before sighing in defeat. “Happy. You make me happy.” 

Dean held the Democrat a fraction tighter and peppered kisses over his neck, a small part of him hoping that Castiel would change his mind about leaving. Castiel gave an approving whimper as he tilted his head back, allowing his rival better access to his throat. His fingers tangled into Dean’s hair as the Republican’s teeth scraped over his throat. 

“It’s gonna kill me to not touch you,” Dean growled against his rival’s throat. He sucked at tanned skin, being careful not to leave a bruise. “Knowing how you groan and arch into my hands. Knowing you breathe my name when I do something you like.” He thrust his hands under Castiel’s shirt; one smoothing up his back and the other seeking out a nipple. Castiel shuddered and pressed closer to him instinctively. “Knowing how beautifully you respond to this…” He pinched Castiel’s nipple and the Democrat whined and grabbed Dean’s shirt, silently begging for more as he plastered himself against Dean’s front. 

“You sure you don’t want to do this again?” Dean teased, even though he had been somewhat affected by Castiel’s needy display.

Castiel narrowed his eyes in a fiery glare and Dean’s gut burned with arousal as the flame between them flared brighter. 

Castiel must have felt their strengthening bond too, for he lightly wrapped a hand around Dean’s throat – and Dean was suddenly all sorts of excited about this new arrangement – and leaned in until their noses bumped and their lips grazed when they spoke. 

“If it were a case of want, I’d have your jeans around your ankles and your cock down my throat,” Castiel growled, squeezing Dean’s neck gently to emphasise the point – a feat that had Dean instantly hard and aching. “I’d swallow you down and suck you off until you spilled onto my tongue,” Castiel continued as his free hand drifted down Dean’s stomach to settle over his tented crotch. 

“I’d swallow every. Last. Drop,” Castiel purred, punctuating each word with a firm squeeze of Dean’s crotch as he tightened his grip a little on his rival’s neck. Dean’s head tipped backwards, a broken groan falling from his lips. No one had ever touched him like this before – he had never let them, yet he found himself craving the new sensations if it was Castiel who delivered them 

“And then I’d bend you over that counter,” Castiel whispered as he rubbed Dean slowly, firmly, and nodded to the countertop beside the sink. “And I’d make every last inch of you mine,” he rumbled before crushing their lips together. Dean chased the taste of his tongue. 

“I want that,” he whined unabashedly. “Can we do that? Like, right now?”

Castiel chuckled and nuzzled his cheek, still rubbing, fingers still curled around his neck as though he owned Dean. As though he knew that he could do whatever he liked to the Republican without rebuttal. 

“Like I said; if it were a case of want. Unfortunately, it’s a case of what sort of relationship is allowed between two presidential candidates of opposing parties, and the answer to that is _none_. We’re supposed to be enemies.” 

“We could have hate-sex? Whoever comes first is deemed the lesser candidate?”

Castiel huffed a laugh as Dean’s hands settled on his hips. Despite his rival’s fingers around his throat and the teasing at his crotch, Dean was strangely relaxed. He didn’t want Castiel to leave and he would do all he could to drag this moment out between them. 

“Tempting,” winked Castiel, “but you know as well as I do that we can’t. What would the public say if they ever found out?”

“I don’t care what they’d say,” Dean whispered, swallowing against Castiel’s palm just to feel how restricted he was; how out-of-control he was of the situation. “Cas, tell me I’m not the only one who feels whatever this is between us? Tell me you can feel this… magnet between us? This pull?” 

Castiel licked his lips and nodded slowly. “…It was never this way with Luc. There was _something_ at first, but… not like this. I… I’ve not felt anything like this before. It’s so… natural.”

Dean jerked as Castiel slipped his hand further beneath his thighs, catching his balls and placing light pressure against his perineum. 

“I need you,” Dean gasped, gripping the hand around his throat in encouragement. “Cas, _please_. Screw the rules. You can do anything you like to me. I just need you to do _something-”_

Castiel drew away sharply and marched towards the door. Dean nearly tripped over himself in his haste to follow when the Democrat reached for the handle. 

“We can’t,” Castiel said firmly even though his eyes shone with loss. He looked as despairing as Dean felt. “I’m sorry, I have to go.” 

Dean automatically grabbed his arm and when his rival spun around, Dean smashed their mouths together. They toppled against the door, clutching at one another. 

“Don’t do this,” Dean begged. “Don’t say we don’t get a chance.”

Castiel chased his mouth desperately. “We don’t,” he insisted. “We _can’t_. No matter how much we want it.” He gripped the door handle. “You’ll find someone else.” 

Dean shook his head frantically. “I don’t want anyone else. Can’t we at least try? Just to see if we could work?”

Castiel shoved at him until he stumbled backwards. The Democrat straightened, face flushed and eyes a little wild. “No, Dean,” he growled with an edge of desperation, willing Dean to understand. 

“Fine,” Dean assented harshly. “But you can’t stop me teasing you in front of the cameras. You can’t stop me from flirting with you.” That was a lie – if Castiel asked Dean to stop, he would in a heartbeat. He found himself inclined to do anything Castiel asked of him. He wondered what that meant and whether this simple physical attraction he held for his rival ran far deeper than either of them imagined. 

Castiel looked almost relieved by the suggestion that Dean was going to resume his public flirting.

“You can do as you like providing this situation never occurs again,” Castiel said, gesturing between the two of them. 

Dean ran a hand through his hair and nodded. He hoped Lucifer watched when Dean ran his filthy hands all over his boyfriend. He hoped Lucifer would see Dean’s claim for what it was. He hoped Lucifer hated him for everything he was about to do to save Castiel. 

Closing his eyes, Castiel exhaled deeply and pushed down on the handle. “Good luck for Tuesday, Dean,” he murmured as he slipped through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh the angst


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at bottom

The day of the first debate arrived and Dean strolled onto stage with a cocky smirk and all the confidence of an overpaid CEO fat cat who had no idea what the name of his own company was but was one-hundred percent certain that it couldn’t function without him. 

“Good evening, Indiana,” Dean greeted with a charming grin as he took his position at the podium. A surprisingly enthusiastic round of cheering was his response. His smile widened and he turned to Castiel, who was already standing tall at his own podium. “And hello, gorgeous,” he purred, eliciting a compilation of wolf whistles, jeers, and whooping from the audience. 

Castiel rolled his eyes good-naturedly but cocked a curious eyebrow when Dean revealed the slim box of luxury chocolates he had hidden behind his back during his entrance. The crowd expressed their approval as Dean placed the box on Castiel’s stand with a wink. 

“Mr. Winchester, you should have at least waited until the debates were over to congratulate me on my victory,” Castiel drawled and as the audience tittered and snickered, Dean grinned his most innocent grin. 

“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, Mr. Novak,” Dean said. “Might wanna open that.”

With an amused smile, Castiel opened the box and a note fluttered out of the lid.

 _“Chocolates for an even sweeter Angel,”_ Castiel read into the microphone. _“My deepest condolences for the loss. Love and kisses, your next President.”_

Castiel bit back a laugh as Dean blew him a dramatic kiss from his podium. The audience clapped and snickered as Castiel popped a chocolate into his mouth and delicately set the box on the floor. 

The cameras swung to the host and he introduced how the evening would run before requesting the audience’s silence and beginning his first question. 

“In many states across America, students have been advocating for a lowered voting age for both the primaries and the general election. The common consensus seems to be sixteen years. How do you feel about the U.S. lowering its voting age, Mr. Novak?” 

The humour faded from Castiel’s expression and Dean watched his rival’s transition to serious politician. A thrill raced through Dean’s spine as determination glinted in his opponent’s eyes and he began to wonder if the prospect of a challenge was what drew him to Castiel with such magnetism. Either way, he had a feeling that he was going to enjoy these debates. 

“I agree that the voting age should be lowered,” said Castiel plainly. “Any citizen that is expected to pay taxes should be allowed to vote. Their lives are affected by these elections as much as any other older citizen – why shouldn’t they have their say?” 

When it was clear that Castiel wasn’t about to expand on the point any further, the host flicked his gaze to Dean. “Mr. Winchester?” he prompted. 

“Okay, look. At sixteen, you aren’t mature enough to think clearly about your own future, much less the future of an entire country. Heck, I would argue that you don’t really look into what you’re voting for until at least your twenties. Economics, legislation, and military issues aren’t exactly priorities in the teenage mind. So no, I think the voting age should stay as it is,” shrugged Dean. 

“Well, you would say that as a Republican,” argued Castiel with a scowl. “Because most young people are left-wing. Letting young people have their say would result in significant damage to the likelihood of a Republican win. I also don’t think our teenage viewers tonight would appreciate your condescending beliefs that they aren’t mentally mature enough to understand the deeper issues that this country faces.” 

Dean raised his eyebrows at Castiel and twisted to glance at him. There were no traces of the needy, desperate man that had come to Dean for help a few days previous. There was no fear or insecurities. No glassy sheen to his eyes and no tremble in his voice. Tonight, the claws had been sharpened and Castiel was out for blood. 

A smirk curled at Dean’s lips. If Castiel wasn’t going to hold back, then neither was he.

“Mr. Novak, do you remember when you were sixteen?” Dean asked airily. “Because I remember _my_ days as a sixteen-year-old. My girlfriend at the time asked me to take care of her hamster whilst she was away for a week and, not knowing how to look after a rodent, on the first day I tied a string around its neck and took it for a walk around the local park. It chewed through the string, made it half way across the field, and became a tasty snack for a very glamorous French Bulldog. And that’s the story of why my first girlfriend dumped me.” 

He grinned as Castiel’s eyes fluttered shut; concealing his amusement as best he could. “Now, are you sure that you want sixteen-year-old me deciding on the fate of the country?” 

“I’m certain the American rodent population would take issue with it,” Castiel said drily.

“Exactly,” agreed Dean. “We should keep the voting age as it is – teens have enough problems to deal with without having to worry about the country’s economy or intricacies regarding the military.” 

“While you may have had little common sense in your teenage years, I’m sure many others feel differently,” said Castiel. “I, for one, was heavily involved with a lot of charity work and political movements in my teenage years. I researched the country’s issues extensively and I feel as though I had enough knowledge and understanding of politics to vote on the fate of the U.S., yet I was unable to due to age restrictions.” 

“Not everyone researches what they’re voting for, Mr. Novak,” protested Dean. “Particularly teens. They’re more likely to be influenced by a biased parent or family member. The opinion of one person becomes two, three, four votes. How is that fair?” 

Castiel clasped his hands together, a sly twinkle in his eye and Dean felt as though he was about to be tied in knots.

“Were you influenced by your parents’ opinions at that age, Mr. Winchester?” 

“…Yeah. I guess so,” said Dean carefully. “I certainly didn’t research anything myself.”

Castiel smiled calmly. “And your brother? Was he influenced by your parents? Or did he choose his own path?” 

Dean’s mouth snapped shut and he fought back the urge to glare at his rival. That sneaky little…

“Sam chose his own path,” Dean sighed. 

“Democrat, right?” Castiel teased, rubbing salt in the gaping wound.

Running his tongue over his bottom lip, Dean nodded tightly. “Yeah. Yeah, Sam’s blue.” 

“So, what you’re saying,” Castiel drawled smugly, “is that those who don’t research and don’t really understand how the country works vote red, whereas those who comprehend the deeper issues within America vote blue? Have I got that right?” 

Rolling his eyes as a smirk played about his lips, Dean shook his head at the low murmur of amusement that rippled through the audience even as the host signalled for them to be silent. 

“You’ve got me backed into a corner here,” said Dean. “If I stand up for my own party, I’ll be condemning my brother. If I stand up for my brother’s decision, I’ll be a hypocrite. Either way, I lose.” 

Castiel had the audacity to wink at him. “So, what’s your response, Mr. Winchester? Do educated people vote blue and the ignorant vote red?” 

Dean hesitated a moment, thinking rapidly. “My response, Mr. Novak, is that although Sam has differing opinions to me regarding politics, he isn’t the one standing on this stage and _acting_ on those beliefs. Saying that you think _x_ would improve the country is far less useful than actually _doing_ it.” 

A smile lingered on Castiel’s lips but he said nothing, so Dean continued. “I’m proud of my brother. Very proud. Academically, he’s more intelligent than I could ever hope to be. I have no issues with him being blue and whether I win or lose this election, I’ll always encourage him to be truthful about what he believes in. Call me uneducated and ignorant if you wish, but I’m being honest about what _I_ believe in, too. That’s why I’m here, debating with you about why I believe that the good people of America should vote me into the White House on November third.” 

Castiel’s gaze softened and his smile grew more genuine. “I’m calling you neither uneducated, nor ignorant, Mr. Winchester,” he offered gently. 

Warmth spread from Dean’s chest through every vein and artery at his rival’s sincere smile. The tone of Castiel’s words curled around him like a large, fluffy blanket, cocooning him in soothing and happiness. Dean had never relished a simple smile as much as he did Castiel’s. 

“I would be deeply upset if you did,” Dean commented with a grin and the corners of Castiel’s eyes crinkled with mirth as he returned his attention to the host for the next question. 

The remainder of the debate proceeded in much the same manner, with teasing jabs and amused smiles, and Dean found himself strangely relaxed as he argued his points. It was nearing the end of the ninety minutes when Dean finally saw his opening. 

“Speaking of transparency,” Dean said as they finished a segment on whether political candidates should be required to release their recent tax returns to the public, “I’m rather hurt that you led me on without telling me about your boyfriend.” 

Castiel fixed him with a sharp gaze and Dean smirked inwardly at the confused expressions floating around the audience.

“What do you mean?” Castiel demanded with a frown. 

Dean shrugged carelessly. “The least you could have done was tell me that you were already in a relationship. I got my hopes up for nothing.” 

Castiel swallowed, a hint of panic entering his gaze as he turned to face the Republican. “What are you talking about?”

Dean chuckled. “A friend happened to be walking by _The_ _Waldorf_ a few nights ago. Says she saw you and a tall, blond, mystery lover sharing a kiss over dinner.” He popped an eyebrow at Castiel. “When were you gonna share that little piece of news?” 

“Your friend was mistaken,” said Castiel quickly, prompting a disappointed headshake from Dean.

“She took a couple of pictures if you’d like me to prove it?” Dean challenged lightly. 

Castiel stiffened, betrayal sweeping over his features. He turned away and closed his eyes, anger simmering below the surface.

“I was trying to keep him out of the media,” he said bitterly. “I wanted to spare him from the cameras. We were going to reveal our relationship _after_ the race was over.” He levelled Dean with a hot glare and the Republican smiled lazily. 

“ _Whoops_. Sorry.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes and squared his jaw as Dean smirked. The host hurried them onto the last question, but the damage had been done and the audience whispered amongst themselves excitedly. 

The Waldorf would be swarming with cameras tonight.

* * *

“You told him!” Lucifer snarled. 

Castiel threw his hands out in exasperation. “Why would I tell him? You wanted out of the papers and so far, I’ve done everything I can to respect that!” 

“Then how does he know about us?” Lucifer hissed as he advanced on the younger man, fists clenched and teeth grinding together like a possessed bull. “How does he have _pictures?!”_

“I don’t know!” Castiel snapped, running a stressed hand through his hair. “Maybe he’s bluffing?”

“He knew I was staying here!” Lucifer growled. “In this hotel! He’s obviously seen _something!_ Unless you told him!” 

“Why would I tell him?” Castiel bit out. “Why would I tell my only rival that I have a secret boyfriend who doesn’t want his face in the media? Think about what you’re saying, Luc. It sounds ridiculous!” 

Lucifer narrowed his eyes but thankfully remained silent and Castiel sighed heavily as he flicked his gaze to the window, outside which the paparazzi were skulking like feral cats waiting for a rodent buffet. 

“Maybe we should stay apart for a little while,” suggested Castiel after a few tense moments. “Just until something new comes along to occupy the press’ attention.” 

“How will that help?” Lucifer demanded. “Us staying apart? How does that fix any of this?”

“Because,” growled Castiel, “the press will keep trailing me if we don’t. One of them is going to get brave and follow me up to your room and then they’ll definitely see your face. You won’t be able to escape the papers then.” 

“This is bullshit,” Lucifer snarled as he kicked at a bedpost, startling Castiel. It took every scrap of will within the Democrat to not scuttle backwards at the dull _thud_. 

“Election day is in five weeks,” Castiel said softly. “The press will have forgotten all about you by then; they’ll be focused on whomever wins.” 

“Five weeks?” Lucifer protested. “Castiel, that’s a long time for us to go without seeing each other.”

“I know,” soothed Castiel as he edged towards his boyfriend cautiously, hands extended in a placating manner. Lucifer opened his arms in invitation and Castiel settled between them, attempting not to flinch. “But it’s just long enough for the press to lose interest in you.” 

“I’ll miss you,” said Lucifer gently as he squeezed Castiel’s middle and Castiel concealed his grimace by nuzzling into his boyfriend’s shoulder. “I don’t know if I can wait all that time. Maybe I should just… get it over and done with. I can’t hide from the press forever.” 

Castiel’s eyes widened with alarm and he rocked backwards to stare at his boyfriend. His pulse raced as blood rushed between his ears. “You want to reveal yourself to the paparazzi?” he asked, voice steady. 

Lucifer shrugged lopsidedly. “I knew what I was getting into when I asked you on that first date. I knew that you being a politician wasn’t going to give us much privacy. Still, I wanted you enough for none of that to matter.” 

Castiel forced a smile, even as Lucifer cupped his cheek. “You’ll be hounded,” Castiel said. “They won’t leave you alone until they get tired and move onto the next story. Like I said, that could be five weeks from now.” 

Lucifer’s brows furrowed thoughtfully.

“If I win this election, I can assign security to you. They won’t be able to get to you unless you allow them to,” Castiel continued, keeping the desperation out of his tone. “All you have to do is wait five weeks.” 

Lucifer’s hand dropped to Castiel’s waist and his thumb dipped under the younger man’s shirt to brush tanned skin. “You sound as though you don’t want to be with me,” Lucifer pouted. 

“Of course I do,” Castiel reassured hurriedly, hands settling over Lucifer’s cheeks before his boyfriend could start eying the pair of scissors resting innocently on the coffee table. “I just don’t want you to have to face the press like I do on a daily basis. I don’t want you to go through that.” 

Lucifer smiled and caught Castiel’s hands with his own. He pressed a tender kiss to the knuckles of Castiel’s right hand. “You know that I love you, don’t you?” Lucifer asked gently. “You know that I think about you every day, even when we’re not together? I need you, Castiel. It’s going to kill me to not see you for five weeks.” 

_Please,_ thought Castiel viciously.

Instead, he smiled at his boyfriend. “You can still call me. Just because we can’t physically see each other doesn’t mean that we can’t keep in touch.” 

Lucifer’s smile wavered and Castiel’s confidence faltered with it.

“You will miss me, though, won’t you?” Lucifer queried sharply. 

Castiel frowned and slipped his arms around Lucifer. “More than anything,” he lied.

Lucifer continued to frown and Castiel stamped down on the fear threatening to make his knees wobble. 

“I love you,” Lucifer said pointedly, almost like a challenge – like some sort of twisted test.

Castiel remembered not to chuckle, because Lucifer didn’t like to be laughed at. Instead, he softened his gaze and dropped his head against his boyfriend’s shoulder. “I love you too.” 

Finally, after an agonisingly long minute, Lucifer’s frown receded and he kissed Castiel’s head. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” he murmured forlornly before tilting Castiel’s chin up to claim his lips. 

“We’ll see each other again,” Castiel soothed even though the words burned his throat like acid.

Lucifer’s mouth dominated his own, possessive and controlling and almost threatening. Castiel held back a shudder when rough hands bit into his hips and pushed him against the wall, and he closed his eyes, trying to remember the kisses he had stolen from Dean earlier that week – anything to take his mind off Lucifer’s hands and the pain he knew that they were capable of inflicting. 

“How about you give me something to remember you by?” Lucifer purred beside his ear. “Something to get me through the long weeks without you…” 

Castiel concealed a grimace. “What did you have in mind?” he asked, hoping that he sounded as seductive as he had aimed for.

Lucifer smirked salaciously and licked a stripe up Castiel’s throat before pressing his body flush with the shorter man’s. He ground their hips together whilst nipping at Castiel’s jaw and gripping his wrists a fraction too tight. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Castiel attempted not to flinch at every scrape of Lucifer’s teeth against his vulnerable throat. He tried not to contemplate how easy it would be for Lucifer to hurt him in this position; how quickly Lucifer could kill him with his neck bared like this. He eyed the scissors on the table behind Lucifer and felt his heart rate accelerate. All his boyfriend had to do was reach out his hand and… 

His eyes snapped shut again and he swallowed as Lucifer flipped him around roughly, until his chest was crushed against the wall and Lucifer was grinding against his ass, fingers dipping below his waistband and nails engraving his skin with thin crescents. He leaned his forehead against the cool paint and prayed that Lucifer would tire of him quickly. 

After a few minutes, Lucifer’s movements ceased and Castiel could feel the scowl burning into the back of his skull.

“This is doing nothing for you,” Lucifer accused and Castiel glanced down to his own flat crotch. 

“I’m enjoying it,” he lied.

“You’ve not made a single sound since we started,” growled Lucifer, anger simmering beneath his words. “Don’t I excite you anymore?” 

“Of course you do,” protested Castiel, internally musing over what kind of _excitement_ it was that Lucifer invoked; his heart was certainly racing. “There’s no one in this world who can make me feel as good as you do.” Another lie to add to his ever-growing stack. 

Castiel tried not to gasp as Lucifer suddenly ripped his trousers down and trapped him against the wall. He forced a groan when his taller lover unfastened his own jeans and began rutting against his ass. He could practically feel Lucifer’s scepticism and he grit his teeth when Lucifer snatched his underwear down as though trying to prove a bizarre point. 

When his fake groans died an uncomfortable death, Lucifer’s temper deteriorated and at the first press of the man’s hard length against his hole, Castiel curled his fists against the wall until his knuckles turned white. The whimper clogging his throat never made it past his lips and he braced himself for an agonisingly dry intrusion, as Lucifer was wont to do when he decided to sexually punish Castiel. 

“Is it Winchester?” Lucifer breathed against his ear in a way that had every muscle in Castiel’s body stiffening with alarm. “Is he the one you’re thinking about? Is he the one you’ve whored yourself out to?” 

Castiel ground his teeth together furiously. “How dare you,” he hissed. “How dare you accuse me of that.”

Lucifer scoffed at him and gripped his hips hard enough to bruise. “I’ve seen the way you interact with him on camera. I’ve seen how you look at him. Be honest, Castiel. Have you slept with him?” 

“Screw you,” snarled Castiel. “You know that it’s an act. You know that I’m faithful to you.”

Lucifer grasped his flaccid dick and pumped it harshly. Castiel winced at the unpleasant sensation but said nothing. 

“Do you think about him?” Lucifer goaded, voice barely a whisper. “Do you _want_ him to touch you?”

 _Yes._

“No,” sneered Castiel and Lucifer yanked at him in reprimand. “No,” Castiel insisted louder. “I only want you. You know that.”

Lucifer bit at his shoulder and Castiel jerked at the sharp sting. 

“Prove it,” Lucifer snarled.

Castiel recognised the powerplay for what it was and knew that he had no choice but to go along with the sick game or face a very real and very painful punishment. He recalled the scissors fearfully and willed himself to grow aroused at Lucifer’s aggressive touch. 

Lucifer’s vexation increased and Castiel grew desperate. Finally, his thoughts flickered to Dean without his permission.

Suddenly, Dean’s hands were holding him, caressing him, exploring him. Dean’s body slotted in behind him, embracing him and protecting him. Dean’s tongue swept over his neck as though he was the most delicious treat that the Republican had ever tasted. 

Castiel closed his eyes and imagined Dean’s fingers roaming over his belly and nipples. He pictured Dean’s palms sliding between his thighs and slithering their way towards his balls, kneading and massaging before clutching the short, dark curls at his crotch. He imagined the Republican whispering filthy promises into his ear as he tugged at those short hairs; his other arm wrapped securely around Castiel’s middle, as though he never wanted to let go. 

Then, Dean would wrap strong, calloused fingers around his erection and Castiel’s head would tip backwards so Dean could claim his mouth heatedly. Castiel would groan as Dean entered him, and the Republican would smirk against his lips and whisper about how he would win the election. 

Castiel would chuckle quietly and rock back against Dean until the Republican was buried inside him up to the hilt, and he would tell Dean that he was wrong and that the Democratic Party was clearly going to win. Dean would grin and hold him tighter, protectively, and brush a thumb over the head of his leaking erection. Castiel would moan and whine as Dean’s hips slapped against his ass and they would argue and debate their policies in between wet, open-mouthed kisses as they fought against their impending climaxes. Neither of them would want to come first; both attempting to prove their own superiority and right to the Presidency in their intense competition, yet they would cling to each other with obvious desperation and passion.

They would clutch at each other as they traded political insults and when their competition ended and one of them was deemed the victor, they would share affectionate kisses as they cleaned one another up. They would wriggle closer under the covers and they would chuckle and praise one another in the safety of darkness. They would fall asleep in one another’s arms, safe and content, and the next evening they would start all over again, this time with Dean arching obscenely as Castiel thrust powerfully inside him.

Castiel groaned and panted at the pictures his imagination conjured and Lucifer smirked in satisfaction, believing himself to be the cause of such delicious sounds.

Finishing soon after, Lucifer peppered kisses over Castiel’s neck and watched the younger man spill over their intertwined hands. He missed Castiel’s guilty expression and graced his boyfriend with a rough, satisfied kiss before leaving the room to clean up.

Castiel’s head fell against the wall and he focused on its cool texture and berated himself for using Dean to get himself off. He had no doubt that Dean would laugh at him and tell him that he didn’t mind, but Castiel couldn’t shake the shame creeping up his neck and spreading through his cheeks. Dean deserved better. After everything the Republican had done for him, he didn’t deserve to star in one of Castiel’s dirty fantasies. Castiel shouldn’t be using him as a prop to distract himself from Lucifer’s less-than-pleasurable advances.

He sighed quietly and consoled himself with the fact that he wouldn’t see Lucifer for five weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Emotional manipulation


	6. Chapter 6

Dean was twenty-three minutes into his third episode of _Doctor Sexy_ when his phone screeched out the opening bars of AC/DC’s ‘ _You Shook Me All Night Long’._ Dean scrambled to his feet and snatched the phone off the coffee table, not bothering to hide his excitement since he was the lone occupant of the house and no one was there to tease him about his ardent grin. 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said casually as he accepted the call and plopped onto the couch again. “How’re you holding up?”

_“He agreed.”_

Dean paused in confusion before his chest flooded with joy and a sigh of relief slipped from his lips. “So, you’re alone? He’s not going to bother you for the next few weeks?” 

_“I won’t see him for five weeks.”_ He could hear Castiel’s smile and he pumped the air victoriously despite his lack of audience. Cas was safe. 

“This calls for celebration,” Dean announced. “You got any alcohol?”

Castiel huffed a laugh. _“Proper alcohol or the cheap swill that you buy?”_

“Beer is not cheap swill!”

 _“It’s half-way to vinegar.”_

Dean rolled his eyes but his smile never once wavered as he fished around the fridge for a beer. Once he was settled on the couch again, he raised his bottle in a toast and imagined that Castiel had done the same. “To great planning and paparazzi vultures.” 

Castiel huffed a laugh down the phone as Dean swigged his drink.

 _“Thank you, Dean,”_ Castiel said softly, intimately, and Dean sunk a little lower into the couch like a particularly contented overfed cat. 

“Don’t sweat it,” Dean said just as quietly, and he meant it. He didn’t need to be thanked for doing the decent thing for a friend in need. 

_“You had no reason to help me.”_

Dean’s brows furrowed and he put his bottle down slowly. “It was the right thing to do. You came to me for help – I’d be a colossal dick if I turned you away; he was hurting you.” 

Castiel was quiet for a long while and when he finally spoke, it was subdued. _“I was desperate but I thought you’d ridicule me. I thought you’d use it against me…”_

Dean opened his mouth to protest but Castiel ploughed on. _“You haven’t got a cruel bone in your body, have you? It never even entered your head to put me at a disadvantage. Even after all the awful things I said about you, after shoving you, after using your brother’s political stance against you… you never once considered revealing my abusive relationship.”_

Dean chuckled. “Yeah… using my brother was a dirty trick, Cas. I’ll get you back for it next debate.” He imagined Castiel to be smiling on the other end of the phone. “But no. I would never go public with something that you revealed to me in confidence. Especially something that puts your safety in danger.” 

A strange sort of silence fell between them – a thick tension that grew with every passing second – and Dean wondered if he had overstepped some unspoken boundary with his last statement. Had he made Castiel uncomfortable? Would he hang up? 

_“You’re a good man, Dean,”_ Castiel mumbled after what felt like hours. _“Far better than I am.”_

Stifling a sigh of relief, Dean shifted until he was strewn across the couch in a very relaxing position. “That’s not true. You’ve got big plans for America – amazing plans. You’re compassionate. You give all of yourself to people and you don’t ask for anything in return. You’re going to be a great president, Cas.” He toyed with the neck of his bottle idly as he waited for the Democrat’s response. 

_“Damn it.”_

Dean startled and every fibre of his being was sent into high alert at the prospect of Castiel being in trouble. “What? What’s wrong?” He catapulted himself upright and teetered on the edge of his seat like a coiled spring ready to bounce into action. 

_“Dean, I..”_ He sounded strangled and Dean’s heart began a cantering rhythm. _“I just…”_ Castiel trailed off then sighed heavily and Dean had a feeling that his head had just dropped into his hands. 

_“I really wish you were here.”_

It hadn’t been what Dean had been expecting and he slowly leaned against the backrest as he contemplated Castiel’s confession with a perplexed expression. 

_“It appears as though you aren’t the only one harbouring an inconvenient crush.”_

Dean blinked and a beatific smile crawled across his features. “Who said anything about me having a crush on you?” 

_“’I don’t just find you attractive. I think you’re gorgeous. I think your eyes are as deep as oceans and your lips as sinful as lust itself,’”_ Castiel said in an imitation of Dean’s voice before his tone grew dry and sarcastic. _“I’m afraid I don’t remember the rest.”_

Dean laughed as his own words from the evening in the park were quoted back at him. He sprawled over the couch again with a lazy grin and closed his eyes, picturing Castiel’s unimpressed expression in place of the darkness behind his eyelids.

“It seems we’re both at somewhat of a disadvantage then,” he drawled. “Both of us having impure thoughts of the enemy.”

Castiel huffed in amusement and Dean imagined the mirth sparkling in those bewitching eyes. He pictured the quirk of Castiel’s lips and remembered what it had felt like to kiss them, to taste them. 

_“…What are you wearing?”_

Dean’s eyes flew open and he wondered for a moment if he had misheard the shy question. When no explanation was forthcoming, he glanced down at his own body. 

“Boxers and robe. Um… both black.” An awkward silence stretched between them and Dean cleared his throat as his cheeks burned. “You?” 

_“…Blue pyjamas with little bees on them. And, uh… slippers.”_

Dean bit his lip to muffle his laughter. That was the most adorable thing he had ever heard. 

“Take your slippers off, Cas,” he purred in the most overly-seductive voice he could muster and Castiel snorted at him in amusement. 

_“Shut up, Dean.”_

Dean stretched over the couch and flicked his gaze to the muted TV. Doctor Sexy was undertaking some life-saving surgery that had never been performed before and the nurses around him held their breaths as the monitors displayed data that suggested they weren’t actually hooked up to the patient. 

_“What were you doing before I called?”_ Castiel asked.

“Watching TV in the living room,” Dean hummed, content just to hear the other man’s voice as he relaxed. “You?” 

_“Getting ready for bed.”_

“Want me to leave you alone?” Dean asked. “Let you get some sleep?” 

There was a long pause before Castiel whispered, _“I want you to take your robe off.”_

Dean licked his dry lips and was too stunned to do anything but comply. His sat upright and watched his robe slide to the floor, then proceeded to stare at his own boxers. 

_“Dean?”_ Castiel asked worriedly and Dean quickly remembered that the other man couldn’t see him and probably thought he had hung up on him. 

“Take off your shirt,” Dean replied without thinking and the was a brief quiet before he heard rustling on the other end of the line. 

_“…Touch yourself,”_ Castiel said embarrassedly when neither of them had the confidence to speak for at least a minute.

Dean stared at himself. “Where?” he mumbled. 

Finally understanding that Dean wasn’t about to hang up in disgust, Castiel swallowed loudly and allowed a trickle of authority to enter his tone. _“Start at your stomach and find your way to your chest. That’s what I’d do.”_

Excitement pooled low in Dean’s groin as he splayed his palm over his belly and imagined it to be Castiel’s touch. His hand swept over his own warm skin before creeping up to his chest and brushing a nipple. He shivered a little at the thought of Castiel’s hands on him. 

_“Tell me what you’re doing,”_ Castiel demanded, although a hint of uncertainty crept into his tone and Dean responded quickly in fear of Castiel losing his courage. The last thing Dean wanted was for this new and interesting development to end before it could really begin. 

“I’m lying on the couch, imaging you standing above me. You’ve got one hand on my stomach and you’re staring at me as though you’re curious about what I’ll let you do to me. I’m staring back at you and you move your hand slowly to my chest. You’re kinda possessive and I let you play with my nipples as I try not to groan.” The words tumbled out of his mouth without his permission and he was surprised at how fluid and easy they poured out. 

_“I love watching you fight the urge to groan,”_ Castiel said quietly, tone steady now that he was picturing what Dean was. _“I’m determined to make you moan for me but I know that you’ll challenge me every step of the way, and your defiance thrills me. I brush my thumb across your lips.”_

“I kiss it,” Dean replied automatically as he slid his thumb across his lips. “And I reach for your hip and pull you closer. I want to feel you against me. I want to taste your tongue.” 

_“I straddle you, but I don’t kiss you,”_ Castiel said lowly, confidence budding. _“I want to touch you more. I want to watch you writhe beneath my hands. I want to hear you breathe my name. I slide my hands over your chest and down your sides before rubbing your nipples slowly.”_

“I run my hands up your arms and down your sides. I squeeze your hips and enjoy your weight on top of me. I want to be closer. I want your hot skin against mine,” Dean purred as he rubbed his own nipples and imagined being held down by his rival’s weight. “I drag your head down for a filthy kiss and I slide my tongue against yours as I clutch your hair.” 

_“I pinch your nipple in scolding but let you dominate my mouth as my hand creeps to your neck. I curl my fingers around your throat and tighten my grip ever so slightly…”_ He sounded cautious, as though worried that Dean wouldn’t approve. 

“I kiss you harder,” Dean said quickly as his boxers began to tent and his skin warmed. “I want you to pin me down. I want to struggle against you. My right hand slides from your hip to your ass as I fist your hair.” 

_“I squeeze your throat a little harder as I wrap my left arm around you. I lower myself onto your body as you ravish my mouth and I shiver at the hot press of your skin against mine. I rock my ass into your palm and can’t decide whether I want to make you mine or want you to make me yours.”_

“Both,” growled Dean as he carefully curled his own fingers around his throat and gave a tentative squeeze. His eyes fluttered shut and he applied a little more pressure as he swallowed against his own palm. The action proved more difficult than he had anticipated and he bit back a pleased grunt, refusing to give Castiel that sort of satisfaction just yet. “You want both of those things, as do I, and I grab your ass and drag you down until you can feel my hard dick straining against my boxers. I want to show you what you do to me – I want to show you how much I need you.” 

_“I grind against you and you can feel how hard I am too. I hate that we’re separated by clothes but I love the idea of teasing you and being teased by you and I want to rut against you like this for a few more moments. I hold you closer and drag your bottom lip between my teeth.”_

Dean’s hips gyrated against air and he used his free hand to palm himself – a poor substitute for Castiel’s body.

“I take my hand from your hair and splay it over your back as though you belong to me. I love that I can feel how much you want me and I grip your ass harder as I wrap my legs around yours. I want to pin you against me like how you have me pinned and I plan how to make you forget about how _he_ hurt you. I want my touch to be the only one you remember. I want my body to be the only one you lust after. I want you to know that you can trust me.” 

Castiel’s breaths grew heavier and Dean longed to see his expression.

 _“I_ do _trust you, Dean. There’s no one I trust more. I want to be yours. I want you to cleanse me of his abhorrent touch. I need you to kiss me again. I need you to squeeze my ass and scrape your nails down my spine. I need you to pull my hair and rub your dick against mine.”_

Dean cursed softly and groped himself roughly through his boxers. “I kiss you possessively and draw my nails down your back. I squeeze your ass one last time before grabbing the wrist of the hand you have wrapped around my throat. I press my lips to the marks he made on your skin before rolling my tongue over them and I stare up at you in hopes that you know much I want you.” 

Castiel seemed to be a while before speaking again and when he did, there was a light tremble in his voice.

_“I watch you kiss my scars and I suck one of your nipples in return. I slide my fingers into the back of your boxers and rub your ass in encouragement as you wrap your legs tighter around mine. I want to feel all of you. I need you more than I’ve ever needed any lover.”_

Dean pinched his nipple hard as he rocked into his own palm and a needy groan left his lips at the combination of Castiel’s words and the sensations his body was being subjected to. He heard Castiel’s soft gasp and squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to picture blue eyes and ruffled hair. 

“I slide your pants down and feel you slide mine off too. That first press of my leaking dick against yours makes me groan and I wrap one arm around you to hold you tight. My other hand curls around our dicks and I squeeze them hard as we thrust together.” 

_“I close my fingers around your throat again to gain back some sort of control. You’re making me feel too much too fast and whilst I have no intentions of stopping it, I want you to feel the same way. I need you far more than you need me, but I try to at least make this satisfying for you too.”_

Dean shook his head as he tore his boxers off and squeezed his aching erection. “Not true. You have no idea how much I need you, Cas. But I love the struggle. I love that you’re losing control because my hand is on your dick and I love that I’m losing it at your hand around my neck. It’s like a race except the loser is the one who comes first.” Dean groaned and arched into his own touch. “I wish you were here. I wish that I really could taste you and touch you and make you mine.” 

_“Dean,”_ Castiel panted and Dean’s hips snapped upwards at the idea of his rival jerking himself off on the other end of the phone. _“I want that too. I want to watch you arch and moan beneath me. I need you to touch me. Dean, please.”_

Dean pumped himself harder at the plea and squeezed his own throat like he imagined Castiel would. “We watch one another and I think how beautiful you are. You’re stunning like this and I love how we cling to one another. I love how strong you are and I groan as you tighten your fingers around my throat. I fist your hair and claim your mouth and I feel you fight against me.” 

_“It’s too much,”_ Castiel groaned. _“Your body and your mouth and your clever fingers… I fight against you because I’m so close and I don’t want to lose.”_

“So competitive,” smirked Dean as he felt himself nearing the edge. “I drag my hand from your hair, down your back and I slide it between your cheeks to toy with your tight hole.” 

Castiel cursed and Dean writhed in pleasure at the sound. He was suddenly determined to win their heated game.

 _“You have no idea how much I want to come over right now and suck you off in that shower of yours. I’d swallow you all the way down and I’d play with your balls until you came down my throat. As the water poured down on us, I’d milk you for every last drop you had to give. Then, I’d clean you up using only my tongue and I’d expect you to return the favour as soon as I’d finished.”_

Dean spilled over his hand with a cry and he heard Castiel experience his own relief a few moments later. Dean lay sprawled over the couch for a couple of minutes, listening to Castiel try to catch his breath, before glaring at the phone. 

“That was cheating,” Dean growled. “You changed the scene.”

Castiel laughed breathlessly and Dean itched to kiss him. 

_“I’ve told you before that I like to win.”_

A grin tugged at Dean’s lips. “I know. It’s hot. You’re hot. No, you’re incredible. You need to come over right now so we can do that for real. Or I can come to you and worship your whole body. You know what? I don’t care if we don’t have sex – let me just kiss you. Let me claim that filthy mouth of yours. Just… let me see you. I need you so much right now.” 

Castiel sighed heavily and Dean’s heart sank. “Cas, please. I need to see you.”

_“You’ll see me in a couple of weeks at the debate.”_

Dean bolted upright. “It’s not enough. I need more than that. _I need you_.”

_“You know we can’t.”_

“Screw the election!” Dean snapped. “Screw the press! Screw the rules! _Screw politics!_ I want more than this. Cas, I want to go on a date with you. I want to act on the feelings that we both have for each other. I want to learn more about you _._ ” 

_“Dean, please. You know that can never happen,”_ Castiel said weakly. _“Don’t make this harder than it already is.”_

“You’re the one making this needlessly hard!” Dean hissed. “We can make this work!” 

Suddenly, Castiel’s voice was cold and firm and Dean knew that he had made a terrible mistake.

 _“I’ve just escaped from one abusive relationship and you have the_ gall _to demand that I start another with you?”_

Then, just as quickly as Castiel had shut down, Dean’s temper flared. “Oh, so I’m just as abusive as your psychotic ex, huh? You use me to get off and then throw me away when things start to look difficult? Real nice, Cas.” 

_“I left Lucifer_ last night, _Dean. Last night! I know you helped me, but I’m not now obligated to suck your dick!”_ Castiel shouted angrily. _“I don’t owe you sex or any sort of relationship!”_

Dean clenched his jaw and tried not to yell. Castiel was correct; _of course_ he was, but that didn’t mean that Dean’s heart hurt any less. He longed to hold Castiel in his arms, to kiss him and wake up to his dazzling smile. His chest ached at the thought of being alone for the rest of his life, but it constricted painfully at the idea of sharing his bed with anyone who wasn’t Castiel Novak. 

“I know that,” Dean hissed. “But you can’t just use me and then blow me off because I’m not _convenient_. You can’t lead me on and then drop me whenever you feel like it!” 

_“Lead you on?!”_ Castiel snarled incredulously and Dean drew the phone away from his ear until his rival’s voice lost its acidity. _“I keep telling you that nothing can happen between us! You told me you agreed!”_

“I agreed to nothing,” snapped Dean as a sinking sensation settled in his gut – one that filled his head with thoughts of defeat and loss. “You knew from the beginning that I liked you!” 

_“That isn’t my problem,”_ Castiel bit out harshly. _“It’s your responsibility to control your feelings and actions. Don’t blame this on me, Dean!”_

Dean’s chest ached dully. “So, what? Everything you said earlier was a lie? About wanting me, needing me, _trusting_ me? Were they all lies? How about when you said that you wanted to be mine; that you wanted me to ‘cleanse’ you of his touch? Was that all a lie too?” 

_“Of course not!”_ Castiel yelled and Dean’s eyes slipped shut at the hurt in his rival’s tone. Still, it was easier to blame Castiel than it was to entertain the notion of never being able to have him. _“Of course, I want you! Of course, I trust you! Of course, I wish that I was yours! That doesn’t mean that any of it is possible! If the circumstances were different-”_

“But they aren’t,” Dean interrupted coldly, because he couldn’t bear to muse over the ‘what ifs’, to ponder over the things that could have been. “You know what? Fine. I get it. You don’t want this. You don’t want me. You’re making excuses instead of admitting to the fact that you just wanted a voice to jerk off to. Whatever, I don’t care.” 

_“How can you say that when-?”_

“Next time, call a late-night hotline. At least they won’t actually care about you.” 

_“I never intended for us to-”_

“See you at the debate.” 

_“Dean, wait-”_

Dean jabbed an angry finger at the ‘end call’ button before throwing the phone none too gently across the couch. It hit the arm rest and made a similar sound to the _thud_ that occurred when Dean’s head fell into his hands. He stamped a frustrated foot and pressed his palms into his eyes, hoping that the dull ache would distract him from the throbbing in his chest, but when it didn’t, he slumped back against the couch and fought against the urge to call Benny or Sam. 

He glanced down at his naked body and wrinkled his nose in disgust. He felt used and the stickiness of his hand and thighs brought shame to his cheeks. He lurched to his feet, shuffled to the bathroom and rid his mind of Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this entire fic is a smutty, angst-riddled mess. Someone should sack the writer.


	7. Chapter 7

Benny’s face was red despite it being planted firmly in his palms. “Dean,” he said, sounding half strangled and half mortified – as though he was being choked by a string of anal beads. 

“It’s not like I planned it,” Dean protested half-heartedly, looking at anything that wasn’t Benny.

“You had phone sex with him!” 

“Unplanned phone sex!” Dean argued before dropping his gaze to his legs, where they swung like a five-year old’s whom had been called into the Principal’s office. 

“You promised me that you didn’t want to sleep with him,” Benny pointed out. “You told me that the flirting was a bit of fun and when I asked you to stop, you said it meant nothing and that you weren’t going to be distracted by him.” 

“I didn’t sleep with him!”

“Technically, you did,” scoffed Benny. “Right after he told you about Lucifer’s abuse. You took him home and let him sleep in your bed.” 

“…That doesn’t count.”

“Dean,” snapped Benny as he slammed a hand on his desk and leapt to his feet. “I warned you not to get distracted by him and now you’re telling me that not only did you invite him into your _bed_ and interfere with his home life, you also have his private number, engaged in phone sex, _and_ got into a fight with him about wanting a relationship with him! You are his _opponent._ I can’t believe you went behind my back and… _fraternised_ with our enemy! What on Earth possessed you to ask him for a relationship? How did you think that was appropriate? Why would he say yes when you’re _rivals?!”_

“Because I like him, okay?” Dean spat as he jumped to his feet and matched Benny’s hard glare. “I get it – we’re running against each other in the election. That doesn’t mean we have to hate one another! He’s smart and witty and he’s not afraid to challenge me and I… I really like him.” Dean fell quiet, suddenly feeling small now that his feelings were out in the open for everyone to take pot-shots at. He dropped his gaze and heard Benny sigh before he took his seat. 

“I don’t understand what you expected to come out of this. Deep down, you knew what his response would be. Why did you let yourself get attached?” 

“I’m thirty-six, Benny,” Dean murmured. “I’ve got no relationship, my brother is in another state, so is my dad, and I’m out on the road so much that I barely have time to talk to my friends, never mind meet someone and work out whether I can trust them. I’m lonely.” Dean plopped into his seat and twiddled his thumbs. “Cas knows the life. He didn’t push me away despite the ridiculous flirting. He gave as good as he got. He told me that he trusted me and I… I wanted that. Wanted him. I guess I knew that he wouldn’t want a relationship with his opponent, but I just hoped…” Dean trailed off and closed his eyes as that familiar ache thrummed in his chest again. 

Benny eyed Dean for a long minute before heaving a long-suffering sigh. “You hoped that he’d break the rules for you like you were willing to do for him. This isn’t just a crush, is it?” 

Dean winced then frowned in confusion. “What else would it be? Look, it doesn’t matter anyway. He made it clear what I am to him. I’m nothing more than a cheap hook-up and maybe I’ll get over him quicker if I just focus my energy on the debates.” 

Benny offered him a dubious glance before shaking his head. “Perhaps you should talk to him? Patch things over a little between you both? If you don’t, not only will it distract you at the debates, it’s gonna eat at you later if you don’t find some sort of resolution.” 

Dean shook his head fiercely. “It won’t. I promise.” He had made similar promises to Benny and look how they had ended. Benny’s expression reflected that sentiment. 

“Just… promise me you won’t tell anyone about the stuff Lucifer did to him,” Dean said. “He told me that in confidence but I… I owe it to you to let you know what’s happened. You’re my running mate and you’re my best friend so…” 

Benny gave him a pitying look. “You have my word.”

Dean bowed his head in gratitude and scuttled out of Benny’s office.

* * *

By the time the fifteenth of October arrived, Dean had written at least a dozen apology texts to Castiel and deleted every single one of them because none of them fully expressed how ashamed he was of his behaviour. He had considered calling the Democrat but had chickened out before the thought process fully developed, and now he was standing in the wings, minutes before the second debate was due to begin, kicking himself for his cowardice. 

Nausea sloshed around his stomach at the thought of debating with Castiel when their last conversation consisted of him accusing the Democrat of leading him on _the day after_ he had escaped his abusive boyfriend. He had been a jerk to the older man, especially when Castiel had said from their first meeting that nothing could happen between them. All things considered he was lucky that Castiel had even played along with their last raunchy phone call. 

He should have taken Benny’s advice and smoothed things over between them because right now, he was a bundle of tension and regret and there was no way he would be able to focus on the debate. 

“Ten minutes, Mr. Winchester,” said a frazzled-looking woman dressed in black and wearing an earpiece. Dean nodded numbly and she scurried away to parts unknown, leaving Dean to stew in his own spiralling musings as he hid backstage like a new-born fawn. 

“Good luck.”

Dean startled at the familiar voice and whirled around to face a sheepish-looking Castiel. A frog hopped into his throat and his stomach wobbled violently before he regained some sort of composure. 

“You too,” he squeaked.

Castiel dropped his gaze and Dean’s mouth worked open and closed like a gasping fish before Castiel slowly turned and began to walk away. 

“Cas, wait-” Dean managed just as Castiel spun on his heel and said, “Dean, I-”

They blinked at one another and swallowed in unison before sagging in defeat. 

“I’m sorry,” they said together, then stared at one another with raised eyebrows.

“No, I’m sorry,” Dean said quickly as Castiel edged towards him. “I had no right to ask you any of the things I did and you were completely justified in saying what you said. We’re political rivals and you’d just escaped a bad relationship and I was selfish and stupid to accuse you of all those things. I have no right to expect anything of you just because I have a few inappropriate _feelings_.” 

“No, Dean, I… I was out of line using you as I did and then shutting you down straight after,” said Castiel as he shook his head. “I’m ashamed of how I treated you. You have every right to be angry with me. I should never have indulged myself with such _fantasies_ , but you’ve been so kind to me… so selfless… I let myself imagine that we could have each other even though I knew it would hurt us both afterwards. If anyone was selfish, I was. You told me from the beginning that you liked me and I… I encouraged it. I’m sorry, Dean.” 

Castiel no longer stood tall like the proud politician that Dean was accustomed to seeing. He looked as tired and stressed as Dean felt and the Republican had the sudden urge to take him into his arms and kiss his frown lines away. 

Instead he sighed, soft and relieved. “I’m just glad to hear that you aren’t mad at me.”

“Mad?” Castiel huffed as he scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I must have typed out at least ten apology texts and deleted every single one because I’m a coward and I didn’t know how to fully express how much I regret speaking to you as I did.” 

A smile swept slowly across Dean’s face. “Let me guess… you chickened out of calling, too?”

Castiel blinked before his eyes sparkled with realisation and he huffed out an amused laugh. “I take it you’re not angry with me then?” 

Dean chuckled and shook his head. “I was at first, but then I realised how stupid I was and I just… I want things to go back to the way they were. I don’t like not talking to you.” 

Castiel sagged with relief and closed the distance between them. He reached out to touch Dean but aborted the movement before he could make contact and Dean’s heart twanged painfully like a broken guitar string. 

“I really like you, Dean,” Castiel whispered. “And I get this terribly empty feeling in my chest when I contemplate how I can’t have you. Don’t ever think that I don’t want you.” 

“It’s okay,” Dean whispered as he subtly brushed his knuckles against Castiel’s, hoping that no one was watching. He just needed to touch the older man – he needed that physical confirmation that everything was all right between them. “If circumstances were different, maybe we could have this. As things are, we just have to… move past it.” The words tasted foul as he said them and Castiel’s grimace was a testament to how difficult that particular task would be. How did you move past your feelings for someone knowing that they were somewhat reciprocated? 

“It’s not okay,” mumbled Castiel. “Not even a little bit.”

Dean startled as Castiel grabbed his hand and twined their fingers together boldly, undeterred by the multitude of staff hurrying about their tasks around them.

…Was it possible that Castiel was willing to break a few rules for Dean, too?

“No,” Dean agreed quietly, “but we just have to pretend that it is. Once the election’s over, we probably won’t see each other again anyway. A relationship would be impractical even if it was allowed. We should move on.” _Why did he say that?!_ That was the complete opposite of what Dean believed, but maybe Castiel needed to hear it so he wouldn’t feel too guilty about Dean’s feelings for him. 

Castiel’s hand slid from his and, in Dean’s head, he seemed upset. “Right,” Castiel said flatly. “We should move on.” He didn’t seem to believe that either and he backed away from Dean slowly, as though he had been struck. The realisation that he had hurt Castiel _again_ was like a punch to Dean’s gut and he stumbled forwards and foolishly blurted the first thought that came to him. 

“If you win the election, I’ll resign.”

Castiel’s gaze snapped to his face and he frowned warily, not quite understanding the implications. 

“I’ll resign,” Dean rushed out. “I’ll resign from my position in the Republican party. We won’t be rivals.”

“Dean!” Castiel said in alarm as his eyes blew as wide as those of a deer about to fight a car. “You can’t do that!” 

“I can and I will,” Dean said, voice low so as to deter any potential eavesdroppers. They had already gained some strange looks from Castiel’s shout. “If I do that, will you let me take you on a date?” 

The Democrat’s mouth hung open for a second before he laughed incredulously. “You can’t be serious? You can’t give up your position like that! You… you barely know me! What if we don’t work out?” 

“Is that a yes?” Dean asked, blood racing as the logical side of his mind screamed about how brash and idiotic he was being. Benny would kill him. 

Castiel stared at him for a moment longer. “Yes,” he choked out.

“Promise?” 

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. Yes, Dean. Yes, I want to go on a date with you. I want to go on a hundred dates with you,” Castiel breathed, looking pale. 

Dean nearly kissed him but managed to stop himself from leaning forwards. Suddenly, Castiel gripped his hand tightly.

“Don’t you dare throw this election,” he warned fiercely. “Don’t throw this election for me. You’ve worked too hard to get here.” 

A smug smirk tugged at Dean’s features. “I have no plans of making this easy for you, Cas. I still want to win. This way though, I win either way.” He graced the Democrat with a wink and Castiel grinned. 

Dean’s smirk faded as an idle thought poked at his mind. “So, if I win the debate, would you…?” He didn’t finish the question, but he didn’t need to because Castiel wouldn’t meet his gaze. That was okay though, because Dean knew how much the Democratic Party meant to Castiel. 

“Dean, I-”

“It’s alright,” Dean soothed gently. “I understand.” 

“I really do want you,” Castiel said weakly, eyes wide and apologetic as he stared up at the Republican. “I promise that I want you.” 

“It’s okay,” Dean whispered as he brushed their fingers together. “Politics means a lot more to you than it does to me.”

Castiel looked away in shame and Dean longed to kiss the expression from his features. Instead, he hooked his little finger around Castiel’s in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. Castiel’s lips twitched upwards and Dean offered him a lopsided smile in return. 

“We good?” he whispered and at Castiel’s nod, he slipped his hand from the Democrat’s. “Good look, Angel.”

Castiel huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Please don’t call me that on stage.” 

Dean’s eyes sparkled and he grinned, causing Castiel to shake his head with a long-suffering sigh.

“Mr. Novak? Mr. Winchester?” 

They startled at the sudden appearance of the young woman wearing an earpiece. She looked surprised, if not a little wary, to see them both conversing amicably with one another. Dean straightened and cleared his throat, raising a questioning eyebrow as he did so, and the mildly stressed expression returned to the woman’s face. 

“We’re ready for you.”

Both men nodded and spared each other one last secretive glance before taking to the stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter because... it just is. Hope you guys are enjoying~


	8. Chapter 8

The fanart was an… interesting development. The fanfiction doubly so. 

Benny thought it hilarious that there was a dedicated fanbase passionate enough to illustrate Dean and Castiel’s highly erotic relationship and when Dean disapproved of his comment of _“You made your bed, now lie in it,”_ Benny merely read out a passage from a shockingly explicit piece of fanfiction called ‘ _Make me’_. Dean quickly stopped protesting and begged Benny to delete the internet instead. 

The second debate had possibly gone down a little too well and Dean’s flirting combined with Castiel’s sarcasm had apparently sparked a great many of their fans’ imaginations. Dean was beginning to wonder if the public would complain if he _didn’t_ get together with Castiel by the end of this election. The thought made him text Castiel with the link to a very nsfw fanart of them together, mostly for shits and giggles. He received a link to a raunchy fanfic in response, which made him laugh. 

‘ _That could be us but neither of us are that flexible’_ Dean texted in reply, which earned him a message of, ‘ _Speak for yourself_.’

Which was wholly unfair because now Dean needed to know exactly how flexible Castiel was. 

The point was that whilst Castiel was still in the lead for predicted votes, Dean had miraculously managed to close the distance between them and suddenly, a Republican win didn’t sound so impossible. To be perfectly honest, Dean didn’t mind either way – if he won, that was great; if he didn’t, he got to date Castiel. It was a win-win situation and whilst Benny wasn’t exactly aware of Dean’s consolation prize, the Southern man had to admit that Dean had been acting far more laid back since the second debate. 

When the date of the third debate rolled around, Dean figured that he would make the most of the day and just enjoy what was going to be the last true bid for votes before election day. He would deal with whatever questions were thrown at him and in the meantime, he would tease Castiel as their fans (and the Democrat leader himself) had come to expect. He was looking forward to seeing Castiel for what was likely their last time as presidential candidates. 

He sauntered onto stage and admired his rival for a long moment as the cameras were wheeled into position. Castiel looked as stunning as ever in his charcoal three-piece suit. His hair was deliciously ruffled and when he slipped out of his blazer, his crisp, white shirt was tight enough to outline every line of hard muscle. Dean barely managed to prevent himself from licking his lips as his gaze traced Castiel’s biceps before slinking to his broad chest. Even his collar seemed too constricting for Castiel’s thick neck and Dean’s memory cast back to the day that he had been allowed to slide his tongue all over that tender, delectable throat. 

He raised his gaze to Castiel’s face to cease that particular train of thought – it would do no good for his trousers to tent in front of such a large audience – and he drank in the sight of plush lips, a clean shave, and hooded, sapphire eyes.

 _Cold_ _eyes_ , Dean realised with a pinched brow. Cold eyes that refused to look at him.

Could it be that the Democrat was merely determined? Perhaps he was focused on this last debate and was avoiding distraction?

 _Or maybe he’s upset with you_ , Dean’s mind supplied treacherously.

He flicked his gaze to Castiel’s face again and tried to catch his attention but to no avail. Suddenly, the host began speaking and Dean resigned himself to the idea that he would have to question the other leader once the cameras had stopped rolling. 

“A topical issue for young people today is college tuition fees. Many students have advocated for government-financed tuition or at the very least, lowered fees. Mr. Novak, what is your stance on this?” 

“I agree that colleges are expecting students to pay far too much, particularly when taking into account the quality of teaching and contact time for some courses. The range of fees between in-state applicants and out-of-state applicants is scandalous and if elected, I will attempt to even out these numbers between applicants, while pushing for a lowered average fee,” said Castiel, voice deceptively calm. “I’m certain that the typical, money-orientated Republican beside me is currently thinking _‘and how will he pay for it?’_ Let me explain: a recent study showed that less than fifty percent of tuition fees go to the actual professors and resources used to teach students. The majority is allocated to buildings, administration, marketing, and the vice chancellor’s personal pay packet. Tell me, why should over fifty percent of every student’s tuition fee fund all of this when universities have other sources of income aside from tuition fees? I understand that universities have to make a profit, but they’re making billions each year while students are graduating with thousands of dollars of debt and are still unable to find a job. Instead of universities spending tuition fees on strategies to attract more potential students, they should be lowering fees in order for their courses to be worth their costs.” 

Dean’s brows furrowed in surprise. _Typical, money-orientated Republican?_

“Mr. Winchester?” prompted the host. 

“Whilst I agree that the range of fees between universities and applicants is a little ridiculous, students are still benefiting from the money they’re spending. Universities need to update buildings with new technology and administration is necessary to keep the university running. Schedules, accommodation, and many other areas vital to the student experience are sorted by the administration teams. What we should be focusing on is the interest that student loans gather. That’s what causes the excess debt,” explained Dean, sliding his gaze to Castiel every so often to watch his expression, which appeared to be growing colder with every passing second. 

“So, you’d continue to allow universities to charge however much they like for courses that keep post-graduates unemployed? Or perhaps it’s more a case of you wanting to widen the gap between the working class and the elite? Only a select few who can afford college should be educated; is that your thinking?” Castiel fired back, gaze narrowed and full of accusation. 

Taken aback by the acidic tone, Dean hesitated before shaking his head. “Of course not. I have plans to reduce out-of-state applicant fees, but high student loan interest needs to be addressed.” 

Castiel lifted his chin defiantly and his gaze resembled a glacier but he said nothing more as he returned his attention to the host, as though he had lost interest in Dean altogether. 

“It’s an important issue,” Dean continued slowly, “and I know how difficult it is for students to fund themselves through their courses. My brother struggled with finances too and high living costs almost made him drop out of college. Fortunately, I could help him out a little but I had to take up two jobs to do that and I know that not everyone has that luxury.” He couldn’t believe that Castiel had just accused him of wanting to ‘widen the gap’ between the poor and the rich – as though Dean hadn’t come from a working-class background himself! 

He eyed the Democrat for a reaction, but Castiel stood as stoic as marble.

They answered a few more questions about education before moving onto immigration and Dean began to form the impression that Castiel was not only unhappy with him, but extremely offended by his policies. 

It was bizarre; he and Castiel had mockingly insulted one another’s policies before, but never with such… venom. There had always been an undercurrent of joviality and good will in the past but now… Castiel seemed truly disgusted by him, infuriated even, and Dean hadn’t the faintest idea what had changed since the last time they had spoken. 

“So, you support a test that two out of three born and bred U.S. citizens can’t pass? You believe it fair that immigrants are asked to answer questions on our government, which studies have shown our own people cannot correctly answer?” Castiel sneered, lips curled in disgust like a dog that had just met an avocado for the first time in its life. 

Dean’s eyebrows surged downwards and he clenched his jaw as irritation swirled in his blood. They were a little over half way through the debate and Castiel had yet to ease up on his continuous accusations. The constant blows were beginning to grate on Dean’s nerves and he had so far failed to figure out the cause of the other man’s hostility. 

“I think we should have a test that assesses immigrants’ knowledge of our language, history, and culture and allow them to demonstrate a basic understanding of U.S. government. If they’re going to vote, is it not advantageous for them to understand how our system works?” Dean shot back, losing some of his careful composure. 

“The test doesn’t only assess a _basic_ understanding of government. It asks intricate questions on the more obscure branches of politics – questions that exist merely to confuse applicants and prevent them from making a home in this country,” Castiel said snappily, clearly determined to make an ass of Dean in front of their eager audience. “Perhaps you’re averse to immigrants? Are you against providing refugees with a safe space; a place to call home? Are they not American unless they were born on our soil?” 

“Then perhaps the test needs to be reviewed, but I don’t believe that it should be entirely scrapped. There should be at least a basic level of understanding of our country when one wishes to live in it,” Dean scowled, stamping down on his impatience. 

“There are plenty of white Americans who don’t have that same basic understanding that you expect immigrants to possess,” said Castiel. “Are you certain that this isn’t just typical Republican racial discrimination towards people of colour?” 

Finally, Dean exploded.

“You’re calling me racist, is that it? You’re that desperate to win that you’d try to slander my name by making me out to be a bigot?” he seethed, grinding his teeth together as he glared at his rival. 

“I’m merely summarising your own convoluted arguments,” Castiel said coldly. “The public deserves transparency from the candidates they plan to vote for.” 

What was wrong with Castiel? Why was he suddenly so distasteful of Dean’s company? Were there some lingering feelings over their last fight that Castiel hadn’t revealed? Was he still upset with Dean? Either way, Dean felt that the Democrat was being unfair to him – public humiliation wasn’t the most noble way of resolving a personal affront. 

Dean’s lips drew into a thin line as he fought back the urge to scream at Castiel in frustration. Verbally attacking Castiel in front of their audience would do no good for his campaign; he would have to corner the Democrat once the debate had finished. 

“Your lack of response is very telling, Mr. Winchester,” Castiel said dismissively as he returned his cool gaze to their host. “Transparency is not a trait that your party is known for, after all.” 

“And personal issues you have with me shouldn’t form part of a political debate,” snapped Dean before his brain could inform him that it was a terrible idea. 

Castiel stiffened and whatever question the host had been about to ask never made it into the microphone.

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” Castiel hissed, flashing Dean a fiery glare. 

Dean clamped his jaw shut and knew he had dug a very big hole for himself. Castiel wasn’t about to let the comment slide and no matter what he said now, he would look like the villain. If he told everyone of their feelings for one another, Castiel would despise him and he would be accused of bringing up personal matters to win the debate. If he lied and made Castiel out to be in the wrong, he would be accused of slandering Castiel’s reputation to win the debate. If he lied and made himself out to be in the wrong, the public would turn against him for hurting Castiel. 

His skin prickled with discomfort and his thoughts brimmed with panic. Whatever he said next, he would make a fool of himself and end up throwing the election into Castiel’s favour. _Benny must be banging his head against the wall right now,_ thought Dean miserably. If only he had kept his mouth shut in the face of Castiel’s personal attack. Heck, maybe Castiel had planned all of this – for Dean to lose his temper and say something stupid. He felt as though he didn’t know Castiel as well as he had first believed and his heart thudded hollowly at that particular notion. 

He cast his gaze to the Democrat hopelessly and watched him tug on his left sleeve. Maybe Castiel wasn’t the sort of man that he claimed to be. 

He blinked and watched Castiel tug on his sleeve again, the gesture almost obsessive as it was repeated over and over below the podium; out of view of their enraptured audience. 

Without thinking, Dean strode towards Castiel and grasped his arm, and Castiel jerked backwards with wide eyes. Dean kept a firm grip as the audience broke their silence and muttered amongst themselves in alarm and from the corner of his eye, Dean spotted a few beefy security guards edging towards the stage, like sharks heading towards an innocent seal. 

Dean raised his other hand to slide Castiel’s sleeve down and he caught the older man’s instinctive flinch, as though he was bracing himself to be struck. Dean’s frown deepened and he ignored the security men as they stepped onto the stage. 

“Get off me!” Castiel spat as he attempted to snatch his hand back, but when Dean loosened the button on his cuff, Castiel’s voice grew panicked. “Have you lost your mind?! This is assault!” 

Dean slid Castiel’s sleeve down and felt himself slump at the canvas of ugly black and purple marks. He brushed his fingers over the largest one and Castiel staggered backwards and held the arm protectively to his chest as he glared furiously at Dean. 

“You went back to him,” Dean said, voice soft and broken.

Castiel’s stormy glare faltered and he drew the arm even tighter to himself. 

“Why would you go back to him?” Dean asked, pain clutching his chest in a forceful grip until his lungs quivered with each breath. 

“That’s an inappropriate question,” Castiel said weakly as Dean slowly advanced on him. Security closed in on them.

“I helped you to get out. Why would you let him hurt you again? Why go back to him?” Dean repeated and he watched Castiel’s hard façade melt away, leaving nothing but panic and barely concealed desperation. He flicked his wide-eyed gaze to the audience and back again. 

“This is unfitting behaviour of a politician,” he said pointedly, silently begging Dean to understand that he had no desire to discuss his personal life in front of an audience. 

However, Castiel’s safety was at stake and Dean valued that above all else.

“You think I give a damn about politics right now?” Dean growled. “It looks like your _boyfriend_ took a hammer to your arm!” 

“I fell-”

“Stop protecting him!” Dean snapped as one of the beefy sharks stretched a hand towards him. “Lucifer did that to you! Just like all those other times!” 

Castiel stiffened in horror before clenching his fists as the murmuring amongst the audience grew into blatant chattering. He squared his jaw and stalked off stage and Dean watched him in stunned silence. 

Finally, before security could wrestle with him, he sprung into action and turned to the audience. “Debate’s over,” he muttered into the microphone before bolting after his rival. 

He caught sight of the bathroom door swinging shut and he hurried down the polished corridor and slipped into the men’s room. One of the stalls was locked and stuttered breaths and whispered curses floated out from under it. 

“Cas,” Dean said softly once he was certain they were alone. “Come out of there, man.”

“Screw you, Dean,” snarled Castiel viciously as he kicked at the locked door. It rattled in agreement against its frame. 

Dean’s mouth tugged downwards and he crept towards the stall. “Why’d you do it? After everything we planned?”

“Leave me alone,” Castiel muttered. “You’ve done enough.” 

“Damn it, Cas!” Dean snapped. “I’m worried about you! You’ve been off with me since we began, you’ve accused me of things you know aren’t true, and now I find that after you begged me to help you escape, you went back to your abusive boyfriend! Don’t I deserve an explanation? Everyone in that audience thinks I’m a dick, but I don’t care because I’m more concerned about you! Don’t you understand that? I’m willing to lose every vote I have if it means making sure you’re okay!” 

Castiel fell silent and the tension between them was only broken by the occasional sniffle from inside the stall. When nothing continued to happen, Dean lost his already-tattered patience and began to fiddle with the locking mechanism from the outside. Finally, the ‘engaged’ sign slid to ‘vacant’ and Dean shoved inside, startling a gasp out of Castiel. 

Dean grabbed Castiel before the other man could scramble away and he locked the door as Castiel wrestled against his grip. They struggled for a few moments before Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel tightly and crushed him to his chest and in under a second, Castiel’s viciousness drained from his frame and he threw his arms around Dean and cried quietly into his neck. 

Dean held him closer and rubbed his back rhythmically as Castiel clutched at him.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel whispered after a few long minutes. “I’m sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did.” 

Dean squeezed him gently, body relaxing a little now that he was certain that Castiel was safely tucked into his arms. “That doesn’t matter. Please, just tell me why you went back to him.” 

Castiel shifted against him until their cheeks were pressed together intimately. Dean inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne to calm his frayed nerves. 

“I didn’t,” Castiel murmured as he rubbed their cheeks together lightly, as though he needed the reassurance that Dean was there with him. “He showed up at my hotel last night. Told me that he didn’t care about the paparazzi anymore because he wanted to see me.” Castiel was shaking and Dean slid a hand into his hair and waited for his tremors to subside. 

“I pretended I wanted to see him,” Castiel continued, voice barely louder than the dripping tap. “I did everything he asked. Then this morning, whilst I was sleeping, he grabbed my phone. He saw our texts and our call history. He asked me what kind of relationship I had with you and I… I must have hesitated, or I made a strange face or… or _something_.” He squeezed his eyes shut and trembled again, so Dean stroked his hair until he calmed. 

“It was a lamp, not a hammer,” Castiel whimpered. “The bulb shattered against my stomach and then he… he kept hitting me with it. Nothing I said or did stopped him. He just kept beating me over and over with the bedside lamp and when he finally stopped, he threw me against the wall and told me I was his. He kept… yelling about how much I’d hurt him, about how I was cheating on him and that he would only forgive me if I somehow proved to him that I had no interest in you…” He trailed off and hid his face in Dean’s neck once more. “I’m sorry.” 

Dean swallowed thickly before tucking Castiel more securely into his chest. “He was watching the debate. That’s why you were cold towards me,” he summarised. 

Castiel winced and nodded. “I shouldn’t have been so hostile. You’ve done so much for me and I go and treat you like that. I’m ashamed of myself, Dean, truly.” 

“You’re scared of him,” Dean murmured. “You’re desperate to please him so you don’t get hurt. I understand.”

“I hate him,” Castiel hissed. “I hate him more than anything in this world and yet… I can’t get away from him. You must think me stupid to go along with his demands.” His voice tapered to nothing as he shook gently in Dean’s arms. 

“Not at all,” whispered Dean. “I think you’re brave to face him. I think you’re brave to ask for help.” He pressed his lips gently to Castiel’s head and the Democrat sighed and cuddled closer, seemingly relaxed now that Dean had forgiven him so easily. 

They clung to one another for a little while and Dean listened to Castiel’s breaths even out. Finally, Castiel glanced up at him.

“What do I do?” 

“Firstly, you’re gonna walk out of here with your head held high and we’re gonna finish this debate. Then, you’re coming home with me, where Lucifer can’t get to you,” Dean said authoritatively. 

“The press will have a field day-”

“Let them,” huffed Dean as he pulled Castiel closer. “Let them say what they like. Your safety is a priority and if the reporters want to make a scandal out of it, I’ll tell them it was my fault. I’ll tell them I forced you into my car. I’ll make sure that you don’t face any backlash.” 

“I love you,” Castiel blurted out, a red tinge blossoming over his own shocked features a second later. He shook his head, clearly embarrassed by the outburst and he made to back away from Dean, but the Republican held fast and grinned at him. 

“Now this is an interesting development,” he teased as he drew Castiel closer. He watched the Democrat shy away from him, averting his gaze so he didn’t have to look upon Dean’s smirk. “We’ve not known each other all that long; a couple of months at the most. How can I have possibly won you over in such a short amount of time?” 

“Forget I said that,” Castiel groaned. “I didn’t mean it. It was a heat of the moment sort of thing.”

Dean’s grin widened. “I thought you’d be a challenge,” he said, ignoring Castiel’s response entirely. “I thought my charming one-liners would fall upon deaf ears. I thought you’d scoff at me, and yet… it turns out that you’re _in love_ with me.”

“I meant as a friend,” Castiel protested, but his lips betrayed him as they began to curve upwards. “Not romantically. You’re far too immature for me. Besides – a Democrat and a Republican? We’re hereditary enemies.”

Dean’s eyes twinkled with mirth as he backed Castiel into the stall wall. “I believe Shakespeare wrote an entire play along those lines – forbidden love or something.”

“Yes, and look how that ended!” Castiel chuckled. “As much as I love you, I’d very much like to avoid death.”

Dean beamed. “You said it again,” he pointed out and Castiel’s eyes widened briefly before he pouted. 

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Winchester.”

“Why should I?” Dean asked as he cupped Castiel’s cheek. “You’ve just told me that you love me. _Twice_. I’m allowed to smile.” 

Instead of arguing, Castiel leaned forwards and pressed their lips together. Dean mantled himself around the Democrat protectively as their mouths moved together with a surprising level of innocence. Castiel seemed to melt into him and Dean’s heart _sang_. 

When they broke apart, Dean leaned their heads together and enjoyed the warmth of Castiel’s body against his. He felt at peace like this – more relaxed than he had been in weeks. 

“I want this,” Castiel whispered suddenly. “I’ve spent so long fighting it, but the truth is I want this. I want you.” He tangled a hand in Dean’s hair, as though afraid he would leave. 

“We can have this,” Dean murmured, chest beginning to flutter with something akin to hope. “Lucifer would never touch you again, I’d make sure of it.” 

“I’m torn,” Castiel confessed, sounding pained. “This election means everything to me. If we were to have a relationship whilst running against one another, there would be an investigation – people would accuse us of fixing the votes. Yet… I find my resolve crumbling. Losing you would cripple me.” 

The hope in Dean’s chest dimmed a little. “Wait until election day then. If you win, I’ll resign and we can reduce the risk of an investigation.” He refused to contemplate what would happen if Castiel lost the election. However, he did know that he would protect the Democrat from his abusive boyfriend, regardless of the election results. 

Castiel’s gaze softened and he kissed Dean chastely on the lips. “I don’t deserve you.”

The light scuff of a shoe against tiles caught their attention and they stiffened and stared at one another in horror. Someone was outside the stall. Someone had been outside the stall for a while now. 

Castiel closed his eyes in defeat and Dean exhaled as the implications took root in his mind. This would be their last moment of peace for some time. He glanced down at where bright light spilled under the door and, sure enough, there was a shadow invading the entrance to the stall. 

“A little privacy, please?” Dean growled, holding Castiel tighter. “This is a private conversation.”

The shadow swayed and vanished as shoes shuffled across the bathroom – there was more than one set. The door swung open and closed and in under a minute, the room was silent once more. 

Castiel swore quietly and Dean kissed his head and mumbled a similar sentiment.

“How did we not hear them?” Castiel asked miserably. 

Dean shook his head and closed his eyes as he rested his chin atop Castiel’s skull. He could imagine what the front page of the papers would read tomorrow. _Election flushed: Candidates continue steamy debate in bathroom stall._

“We’d better go back out there,” sighed Dean. “Try to save face at least a little.”

Castiel held Dean tighter for a moment before nodding and allowing him to open the stall door. Before Dean could open the door to the bathroom, Castiel tilted his head down for a heated kiss, which left Dean chasing after his lips once they parted. He raised his eyebrows at the Democrat in query. 

“Thank you,” Castiel said sincerely as he brushed his fingers down Dean’s cheek. “For everything.”

Dean’s gaze softened and he tugged Castiel to his side and held his head high as he marched into the corridor.

* * *

The debate continued and at first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then, Dean and Castiel stepped outside and the cameras descended on them like a plague of locusts. Reporters jostled for space as they shoved microphones and recorders in front of both candidates’ faces and security struggled to control the onslaught. 

Dean tucked Castiel into his hip, wrapped an arm around him, and waded through the press with bullish determination as questions were yelled and accusations were made. 

“How long has your affair been going on for?”

“When were you going to reveal your relationship to the public?” 

“Does your boyfriend know, Mr. Novak?”

“Was the election fixed from the start?” 

“What do your running mates say about your affair?”

“Mr. Novak, did Mr. Winchester force himself onto you?” 

Castiel whirled around with a livid glare and clenched fists. “No, he did not!” he snarled at the young reporter who jerked away from him warily. He would have said more but Dean dragged him towards the car and bundled him inside before he had the chance to. 

Dean climbed in after him and slammed the door shut, sighing at the privacy that the tinted windows offered them.

“Where to?” asked Jo Harvelle quietly; Dean’s loyal driver. He knew that she wouldn’t question why Castiel had joined them and he made a note to thank her somehow later. She had always enjoyed whisky – perhaps he could buy her a nice bottle or four. 

“My hotel,” he mumbled as he eyed Castiel. He looked defeated, resigned to a death sentence, and Dean pulled him closer as the Mercedes rolled through the flock of reporters vying for a scandalous shot. 

They arrived at the hotel in good time and Dean gave Jo the most grateful look he could muster. She smiled at him as he led Castiel from the car and she rolled away the moment they entered the lobby. 

Dean had booked the sort of hotel that protected its guests’ privacy and he and Castiel received no interested glances as they made their way up to Dean’s suite. The silence of the room was an acute contrast to the chaos of reporters outside Belmont University and both candidates slumped with relief. The peace was a welcome reprieve from the complications they knew were bound to assault them in the morning. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” Castiel said quietly. “You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble. You could have let me return to my own hotel.” 

Dean shook his head. “It’s not safe. Lucifer could be waiting for you.”

“I shouldn’t have dragged you into my mess,” Castiel said solemnly. “I’m not your problem.” 

Dean closed the distance between them and slipped his arms around his rival. “I want to help. Let me help.”

Muscles loosening, Castiel leaned into Dean with a soft sigh. He said nothing as he snaked his hands up Dean’s back and around his waist, and Dean kissed his hair lightly before sliding a hand under his rival’s shirt. 

“Show me what he did,” he demanded gently.

Castiel fell limp as Dean carefully removed his blazer and shirt and the Republican gasped at the spattering of bruises and cuts decorating his torso. Dean traced his fingers over a few angry purple splotches before clenching his fists in fury. 

“You don’t deserve this.”

Shrugging, Castiel watched Dean touch his chest and he closed his eyes, relishing his opponent’s tender ministrations. 

“Let me get something to take the swelling down,” Dean muttered before disappearing. He returned a few moments later with a wet washcloth and the first press of its cold softness against his skin had Castiel shivering. The injuries were too old for the cloth to achieve much of anything, but the sensation was soothing and Castiel wove his fingers into Dean’s hair in gratitude. 

Dean moved the cloth around his chest and along his arms and when it was finally applied to his stomach, Castiel shuddered and pressed his lips to Dean’s. They kissed lazily, merely enjoying the taste of one another as Dean held the cloth to Castiel’s abused stomach. It was Castiel who led them to the bed and Dean straddled him, still wearing his shoes and suit, as they smiled against one another’s mouths. 

The cloth made its second round over Castiel’s torso and the Democrat smoothly slid Dean’s jacket off as the Republican kicked his shoes off. Next came the shirt and Castiel’s hands roamed over miles of bare skin, exploring, memorising, and their tongues slid together in a possessive claim. 

“Where else?” asked Dean when they broke apart. “Where else did he hurt you?”

Castiel never broke eye contact as he unfastened his trousers and slid them off. Dean was on him immediately with the cloth; down his legs, to his ankles and back up to the insides of his thighs. Castiel squirmed as icy cold sank into the sensitive, bruised flesh of his thighs and crotch. They kissed and licked inside one another’s mouths and Castiel’s eyes fluttered closed when the cloth crept beneath the waistband of his underwear and settled over his twitching length. A soft groan escaped his throat and Dean swallowed it greedily. 

“He’ll never touch you again,” Dean hissed. “I won’t let him.”

Needing to feel Dean’s skin against his, Castiel pawed at Dean’s trousers and smiled when Dean clumsily began to work them open. The moment he was free of them, Castiel wrapped his legs around Dean’s hips and clutched at his hair and back. This wasn’t about sex – it was about touching one another; it was about knowing that, at least for tonight, they belonged to each other and only each other. It was about trust. 

“Promise?” Castiel breathed before swallowing Dean’s quiet growl.

“Promise,” Dean whispered as he slid the cloth out of Castiel’s underwear and settled cautiously on top of him. He wrapped his arms around the older man protectively and mouthed kisses into his neck, causing Castiel’s head to tilt backwards and allow Dean better access. “I’ll fight him if I have to. I’d do anything for you, Cas.” 

Castiel smiled contentedly and nuzzled into Dean’s cheek. They shared a few lazy kisses before Castiel brushed his fingers over Dean’s lips and jaw and cheek bones with a tender gaze. Dean smiled down at him and a grin broke out over Castiel’s face before he continued his curious exploration down Dean’s throat and over his broad shoulders. He watched in fascination as his fingers danced over hard, tanned skin and the corners of his eyes crinkled at the dusting of freckles down Dean’s arms. 

Dean observed him silently for a little while before turning his attentions to a particularly large bruise on his chest. He pressed his lips to the dark mark and Castiel’s fingers paused their journey for a moment as he cast his gaze to where Dean was nuzzling his chest. Melting beneath Dean’s comforting weight, Castiel slipped a secure arm around his rival and continued his adventure with his free hand. 

Dean sealed his lips over another bruise and then another and he slowly made his way down Castiel’s chest to the soft flesh of his stomach. Castiel’s eyes slipped shut and he stroked Dean’s head adoringly as Dean worshipped his abused stomach with tender kisses and gentle nuzzles. He chuckled softly when Dean playfully nuzzled his crotch through his underwear and he wordlessly rolled over to expose the myriad of bruises and cuts littering his back. 

Dean growled under his breath and wrapped both arms around Castiel’s front before peppering doting kisses to each and every bruise. He silently vowed to ram his fist into Lucifer’s mouth if he ever met the guy. 

He draped himself over Castiel’s back and mouthed at his shoulder as Castiel’s breaths grew deep and content, and he smiled when the Democrat closed a hand over his, keeping him in place. Dean splayed his fingers possessively over Castiel’s stomach and Castiel’s fingers slipped into the spaces between Dean’s, encouraging the Republican to hold him tighter. 

Face half-pressed into the pillow and a smile touching his lips, Castiel mumbled, “I love you.”

Warmth bloomed in Dean’s chest and he nestled his face into his rival’s neck as he settled more comfortably on top of Castiel. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this at-ease. It was as though all his problems had dissolved and all that mattered was the solid figure of Castiel beneath him. His pulse slowed and his breaths fell in sync with the gentle rise and fall of Castiel’s back and for a long moment, he merely inhaled Castiel’s spicy cologne and imagined what it would be like to wake up to that scent every morning. 

He squeezed his rival gently, basking in the hot slide of skin against skin and Castiel hummed softly as Dean kissed his cheek.

“You’re safe,” Dean murmured as he trailed his lips along Castiel’s jaw. “I promise you’re safe here. I’d never hurt you.” 

Castiel closed his eyes and smiled. “I know.”

They lay together like that for the better part of an hour, trading unhurried kisses and exploring each other’s bodies with feather-light touches. Eventually, Dean crawled off Castiel and ambled away in search of sleepwear. When he returned, Castiel changed in front of him and Dean drank in every inch of his body and chuckled at Castiel’s knowing smirk. 

They climbed into bed together and Castiel immediately tucked himself into Dean’s chest with a happy sigh. Dean curled around his rival protectively, arms winding around his middle, and Castiel clung to him as though they had been sleeping together for years. They shared a few claiming kisses before settling down. 

“I’m glad that it was you who I lost to,” Castiel whispered into the darkness.

Dean frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

The Democrat snuggled closer. “If I had to lose this election to anyone, I’m glad it was you.”

“Hey, now. Election’s not over yet. You’re the predicted winner,” Dean pointed out as he nosed Castiel’s hair. The Democrat chuckled and shook his head. 

“Trust me. You’ve won.”

“You’re still in the lead.” 

“After today I won’t be,” Castiel murmured, but he didn’t sound too displeased. “If the upcoming investigation into our personal lives doesn’t postpone election day, you’ll win the majority. Your performance today ensured that.” 

“What are you talking about?”

Castiel smoothed a palm down Dean’s spine. “You proved that you care more about me than winning the election. You were more invested in my safety than your own campaign and even when I had treated you so cruelly and stormed off stage, you still came to check on me. The public will vote for that. They’ll vote for someone who cares more about others than their own gains.” He smirked as he rubbed the small of Dean’s back. “Plus, everyone loves a knight in shining armour. You bundled me into your car to keep me safe from my abusive boyfriend – social media will be filled with pictures of that tomorrow.” 

“That’s just… speculation,” Dean huffed. “The public loves you – far more than they do me. You’re on track for victory.”

Castiel smiled but said nothing more, as though he already knew that the ballots would prove him correct in November. He seemed at peace with the idea. 

Dean watched his eyes flutter shut and he kissed the Democrat’s hair before holding him close and dreaming of a life where Castiel was utterly his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love a bit of drama


	9. Chapter 9

Dean had no idea how it had happened. One moment, he had been pressing a cold cloth to Castiel’s throbbing bruises, and the next moment, he was on his knees in the shower with his mouth wrapped around his rival’s hard dick. 

Castiel groaned and cursed as Dean took him deeper into his throat with a smirk playing about his lips. The Democrat’s fingers tugged Dean’s hair and Dean chuckled deeply as he sucked and lapped at Castiel’s length as though he had been made for it. 

He pinned Castiel’s thighs against the slippery, tiled wall as water cascaded down their bodies and he teased his tongue over Castiel’s slit and down the thick vein that ran along his shaft. Castiel’s head tipped against the tiles as he panted and Dean rubbed his rival’s balls between his fingers and relished the resulting moan. 

He swallowed Castiel down to the hilt even though he wasn’t quite sure he would be able to, and at Castiel’s desperate plea of his name, he released his opponent’s delicious cock with a soft _pop_ and nuzzled playfully at the tight curls of hair above it. 

Then, he slowly worked his way upwards, dragging his tongue over bruises and broken skin and when he latched onto a nipple, Castiel began to tremble like a chihuahua. Dean slid strong arms around him and continued to nip and suck at the little pink nub as Castiel raked his nails down his back and nuzzled his wet hair. He squeezed Dean’s ass and the Republican’s dick gave an interested twitch, so he pressed it to Castiel’s in encouragement. 

Pleased, Castiel claimed his lips hotly and Dean straightened and allowed the Democrat to tug him closer. Castiel traced a single finger up his spine and Dean shuddered in excitement and rutted against his rival’s dick lightly as he smoothed possessive hands up and down Castiel’s sides. 

They hadn’t been able to keep their hands to themselves all morning. From the moment they had woken up, they had been stealing kisses and running their hands over one another’s skin as though they were a newly married couple, and Dean was relieved because he had been worried that Castiel would be ashamed of sleeping in his bed after the catastrophe of the previous day’s debate. To his delight, Castiel seemed thrilled to have woken up in Dean’s arms and whatever reservations he had held about them being together appeared to have vanished overnight, which left for a very handsy, flirtatious Democrat. 

It had been Castiel who suggested they share a shower and Castiel who had first pinned Dean to the shower wall and ravished his mouth as though it belonged to him. It had been Castiel who had been passing little comments about Dean’s ‘lovely ass’ and ‘gorgeous eyes’ and ‘perfect freckles’ all morning and Castiel who had stared and smirked as Dean undressed in the bathroom. It was as though he no longer cared about what the press or public thought of their relationship – as though he didn’t feel the need to stop this new development between them now that they had already been caught.

They hadn’t looked at the papers yet, but neither of them felt the urge to and Dean had no intentions of interfering with this playful side of his rival.

“You looked so beautiful down there with your pretty bow lips around my dick,” Castiel whispered, mouth brushing Dean’s. “I’ve dreamed of seeing you on your knees but, as always, you’ve exceeded my expectations. You’re the most stunning man I’ve ever laid eyes upon.”

Dean’s cheeks heated and Castiel smiled and stole a passionate kiss as he squeezed Dean’s rump again.

“What else have you dreamed of, Cas?” Dean breathed as Castiel shifted to suck at his throat. 

“Pinning you against a wall and burying my dick in your tight ass,” Castiel said casually.

Dean’s breath hitched and he nodded eagerly. “I want that. Can we do that?” 

Castiel smirked and began to knead Dean’s ass cheeks with both hands as he flipped their positions. Dean’s back pressed into the cool tiles and a soft groan floated from his lips as Castiel brushed a finger over his hole. His breaths were swallowed by Castiel’s demanding mouth and he allowed his rival to lead their pace since he himself was so inexperienced at what they were about to do. 

Castiel reached for the shower gel and slathered it over his fingers before rubbing Dean’s hole again and sliding a digit inside. Dean arched and Castiel hummed, satisfied, before slowly easing the finger backwards and forwards. Dean trembled a little at the stretch but he quickly grew accustomed to it and sucked at Castiel’s throat. 

A second finger joined the first and Dean’s hips snapped forward at the ache. His erection pressed into Castiel’s and he closed his eyes and rolled his hips slowly to ease the ache and feel more of Castiel against him. 

“You okay?” Castiel asked quietly, a frown creasing his brow.

Dean nodded enthusiastically and squeezed him with a grin. “Keep going.” 

Castiel eyed him for a moment but Dean’s smile was sincere, so he thrust his fingers deeper until they were buried at the knuckle. Dean straightened, a soft hiss escaping his lips at the burn. Castiel began to pull out with a look of alarm, but Dean grabbed his head and dragged him in for an intense ravishing until the Democrat relaxed and eased both fingers in and out in a steady rhythm. 

Dean writhed a little at the sensation and Castiel’s brows drew together once more.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“I’m fine,” chuckled Dean and he meant it. He wanted Castiel more than he had ever wanted anything in his life.

Castiel carefully reposition him until he was braced against the wall with his back to the Democrat. Snaking his arms around Dean’s middle, Castiel peppered affectionate kisses across freckle-dusted shoulders for a few moments and Dean placed a hand over one of Castiel’s and closed his eyes in bliss. Finally, Castiel guided himself inside Dean and Dean collapsed against the wall with a pained curse. 

Horrified, Castiel stood very still and waited for Dean to haul himself upright.

“Dean, what-” 

“I promise, Cas, I’m fine,” Dean smiled despite the pain. It was alright, he would get used to it. “Please, I want this. I want you.”

Castiel looked uncertain, so Dean pushed back against him and bit back a grimace at the burning sensation. It felt as though he had taken a rectal dose of chilli peppers. 

Castiel’s hands settled around Dean’s hips as his features folded with concern. “Am I hurting you?” he asked, although he sounded confused since he had hardly moved. 

“You’re… bigger than I was expecting,” Dean laughed breathlessly. “Come on, Cas. Get moving.”

Castiel seemed extremely confused now, since he was no bigger than the average male. Still, he draped himself over Dean’s back and wrapped him in a protective hold and slowly began to rock inside him. After a few breathy grunts, Dean began quietened and his eyes closed as Castiel painted his neck in kisses. 

“You’re… very tight,” Castiel whispered in between kisses, sounding mildly surprised.

“Is that a bad thing?” 

“Not at all,” Castiel murmured, nuzzling the shell of his ear as he held Dean closer and snaked a hand down to the Republican’s hard dick. Dean exhaled loudly when Castiel grasped him. “I’m enjoying this very much.” 

Dean grinned as Castiel began to tease him. He slipped a hand between his thighs and massaged his balls, before rubbing a thumb over his head with a hum. His hips continued to slap against Dean’s ass and Dean sighed as the burn began to lose its intensity. The dull ache continued but he wanted Castiel too much to care. 

Castiel shifted and gripped Dean’s dick and at the same moment, nailed his prostate. Dean barked his rival’s name as pleasure raced through his spine and Castiel smirked against his shoulder and repeated the movement as he began to pump Dean. 

The pain combined with blissful pleasure had Dean panting Castiel’s name over and over and Castiel thrust into him a little harder, thoroughly enjoying the sounds he could elicit from his rival. The pain in Dean’s ass increased and he screwed up his face a little and clutched at Castiel’s hand, but he didn’t ask the Democrat to slow – mostly because he didn’t want him to. 

Castiel curled around him tightly, until their damp skin slid together with every movement, and his eyes fell shut as he claimed the Republican with every thrust. 

“Can I…?”

“Yes,” Dean panted. “Please.” 

Finally, Castiel reached his climax and came inside Dean in thick, hot spurts. Dean followed soon after and painted Castiel’s hand with his own fluids. Their breaths shook as they came down from their high and Dean smiled as Castiel peppered affectionate kisses over his shoulder. 

“You have a sexy orgasm face,” Castiel said out of the blue.

Dean laughed delightedly as Castiel slipped out of him and spun him around so they could share a tender kiss. 

“I’ve never heard that one before,” he grinned, still riding a very pleasant cloud.

Castiel shrugged with a lopsided smirk and wound his arms around Dean again. “Maybe I’m biased then. Other than your political standing, I haven’t found a single flaw in you yet.” 

Dean’s face reddened despite his grin. “Hey, I’m supposed to make you blush, not the other way around.”

Castiel’s eyes twinkled with humour before he nuzzled Dean’s cheek. “You have the most amazing moans.” 

Dean laughed again and pressed their heads together. “Not bad for my first time then?”

“You were perfect,” Castiel hummed as he rubbed their noses together. Then he reared backwards with wide eyes. “Wait, what?” 

Dean grinned. “I said ‘not bad for my first time’?”

With a scowl, Castiel pulled away even further and Dean’s brows pitched downwards in confusion. 

“First time?” Castiel repeated. “First time doing what? First time being a bottom?”

Dean shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. This wasn’t the response he had expected. “First time… with another dude.” 

Castiel balked then his eyes narrowed in thought as they flicked rapidly from side to side. “You were in pain,” he said in horror. “I was hurting you.” 

“Wasn’t your fault,” Dean protested when Castiel tightened his grip on his arms. “Like I said, first time and all.”

Castiel shook his head frantically. “Dean, you should have told me! I wouldn’t have… I thought you were…” He cursed violently and ran his fingers through his hair, looking disgusted with himself. “I hurt you,” he said defeatedly. 

“Hey,” Dean said worriedly as he grabbed Castiel’s wrists and kissed his cheek. “I enjoyed it. It’s okay. You did nothing wrong.”

Castiel shook his head again, looking pale. “If I’d have known, I wouldn’t have rammed into you like some depraved animal. I would have worked you up slowly, carefully… Dean, I’m so sorry. That was… that must have been a horrible first experience. You must have been in so much _agony_ …” 

Dean snorted and cupped his rival’s cheek. “I loved every second of it. Now, shut up and stop worrying.”

“But you’re probably still hurting-” 

“Shush, Cas. It was amazing. I want to do it again at some point. I want to do _everything_ with you.”

Castiel hid his face in Dean’s neck and Dean clung to him, basking in the comforting contact of skin on skin. Castiel’s body was so strong and warm despite the abuse it had faced and Dean held him tight, marvelling that he was allowed to touch; that he was allowed to have Castiel. 

Their palms swept adoringly over one another’s bodies, lathered with soap as they cleaned one another up and once they were finished, they dried each other too and stole possessive kisses and touches as they did so. Dean walked a little more bow-legged than usual as he sought out his clothes, and Castiel lowered his head in shame until Dean pinned him to the door and kissed him senseless. 

“The last thing I want to do is hurt you the same way Lucifer hurts me,” Castiel admitted after some time.

Corners of his mouth drawing downwards, Dean folded Castiel into his arms and pressed their heads together. “The difference here is that he _tries_ to hurt you. I, on the other hand, enjoy the way you make love to me.” 

He offered Castiel some clothes and the Democrat accepted them gratefully, gaze shyly cast to the carpet. Dean took a moment to admire Castiel in his shirt and jeans and privately thought that he should wear his slightly-oversized clothes more often. 

Finally, they picked up the paper that had been left outside their door and read through the front-page article all about them.

By the end, Castiel was chuckling and he kissed Dean’s cheek fondly before shuffling off to fold the suit that he had discarded the previous evening. 

Dean stared at the paper for a long time. There was to be an investigation into their relationship, which he had expected. There was a mention of the election being fixed, which he had also expected. What he had not expected, was for half the article to be about _Dean Winchester: Knight in Shining Armour_. 

The majority of the article was hailing him a hero for rescuing Castiel from an abusive relationship. It spoke of how Castiel had begged for his help and like a true gentleman, Dean had rushed to his rival’s aid. It revealed how he had planned to keep the cameras on ‘Castiel Novak’s abusive partner’ so he couldn’t lay a hand on the Democrat without being in the public eye. Then it spun a tale of how, when all else had failed, Dean had held the ‘broken and sobbing Novak’ in a bathroom; throwing the debate to ensure the safety of his rival, before whisking him away in his own car to prevent further abuse. It also explained that there would be an investigation into the mysterious Lucifer and hinted that if he was found guilty of domestic abuse, the investigation into Dean and Castiel’s relationship would be dropped, since all evidence thus far pointed to both candidates having only come into contact with one another within the past couple of months. 

“My hero,” drawled Castiel as Dean slowly lowered the paper. He glanced up at Castiel and suddenly felt guilty over how they had painted the Democrat as some helpless damsel in distress. That image was so far from the truth. 

He tossed the paper on the bed and crossed the floor to pull Castiel into his arms. “Cas, I’m so sorry. They’re so wrong about you-” 

He was cut off by Castiel’s lips sealing over his. When they parted, the Democrat gazed up at him in adoration; as though Dean was his entire world.

“You deserve this win,” he said softly. “Take it.”

Dean fell silent and leaned their foreheads together once more.

At least the paper meant that Benny wouldn’t yell at him too much.

* * *

In the early hours of the fourth of November, it was clear that Dean had won the election by a landslide. 

His party celebrated with cake and champagne, and Benny, Bobby and many of his other close friends congratulated him with back slaps and comments about how the article had saved their campaign despite Dean’s stupidity. Dean agreed and expressed how grateful he was that the investigation into his private life had been dropped and that he never wanted to see another police officer again. He was also grateful to have his personal phone back after six days of it being buried in a box marked ‘evidence’. 

They celebrated long into the morning but Dean’s heart wasn’t really in it.

His mind wandered to Castiel. The deal had been that if Dean lost, he would resign and take Castiel out to dinner, but there had been no plan for their budding relationship if Dean _won_. 

He hadn’t seen or texted Castiel since their morning in the hotel – they had both been pulled this way and that by their respective parties and the investigation had made it impossible for them to meet up. Truth be told, Dean was missing Castiel and no amount of election day partying could fix that. 

Finally, sometime around ten a.m. on the Wednesday morning when his colleagues had passed out from exhaustion, Dean slipped away and texted his rival with clumsy fingers. 

_Been thinkin bout u_

Then, when no response came after a few minutes, he sent another message. 

_Miss u_

He waited for a reply and frowned when none came. Was Castiel upset about losing the election? Was he upset with Dean? 

He slunk into bed miserably and his heart clenched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who did you think would win the election? ;)


	10. Chapter 10

Castiel was _livid_. 

“It’s not that important,” Balthazar, his running mate, scoffed. “Especially not today.”

“They’re incompetent,” Castiel snarled as he prowled around his office like a caged tiger. “Utterly useless. They should be fired!” 

Balthazar folded his arms in irritation. The rest of their party was shuffling around outside, looking subdued and like they wanted to lie on the polished floor, shrivel up and _die_. Castiel ignored them. 

“It’s my property.”

“I don’t believe this,” Balthazar said incredulously. “You lost an election in one week because you were stupid enough to go to your _opponent_ for help, had an affair with him, and stormed out of the final debate, yet you don’t seem to care about any of that!” 

Castiel glared at his friend and Balthazar glared back.

“You’ve ruined everything we’ve worked so hard for,” Balthazar growled. “Can’t you see that?” 

“Yes,” Castiel snapped. “You’ve told me multiple times, as has everyone else! It doesn’t change the fact that the police are _incompetent_.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” Balthazar finally yelled, face red with anger. “Why didn’t you tell me about Lucifer?”

Castiel clamped his mouth shut and stared at his friend. So that’s what this was about. He shrugged helplessly. 

“You’re not Dean,” he said softly.

Balthazar’s face fell and he slumped onto the desk like the withered remains of a popped balloon. “This isn’t like you. You’re usually so calculating, so reserved. You _think_ before you act. You’re never this… brash. Emotional. Dean is a terrible influence on you. He’s systematically destroyed your career and you’re _grateful_ for it.” 

Castiel bristled and bit back a growl. “He _saved_ me.”

“Any one of us could have saved you if you had just told us!” Balthazar snarled, leaping to his feet and jabbing an accusing finger in Castiel’s direction. “This person you’ve become… it’s not the man I know!” 

“You knew the person Lucifer forced me to be,” Castiel hissed, stalking towards Balthazar. “I was quiet and reserved and subdued because Lucifer made me that way! Dean has freed me! I no longer have to be afraid of having cigarettes stubbed out on my skin if I so much as smile on camera! I no longer have to walk up the driveway and wonder if I’ll be greeted with a belt across my back! Dean is my salvation!” 

Balthazar pouted like a child who knew that he was in the wrong but was determined to argue why drawing on the family dog in permanent marker was a good idea. “And what if he drops you like filth now that he’s won the election you so carelessly threw away?” he sneered. “What if that was his plan all along? To play hero for the press? What if it turns out that he doesn’t really care about you?” 

Castiel smiled sharply like a mob boss. “Well, I would be able to ask him about all of that if the useless police hadn’t _broken my phone!”_

* * *

Two days later, Castiel found himself sitting in an overstuffed seat under a disturbing number of stage lights. There was a small camera crew muttering secretively to one another as they flicked their gazes to him and a woman hovered beside him, attacking his face insistently with a makeup brush. MSNBC had contacted Castiel for an interview regarding his surprising defeat and, because he was tired of watching his colleagues mope around the place like miserable zombies, he had agreed – if only to get away from them for a few hours. 

The host took her seat beside Castiel and offered him a polite smile before leafing through her papers. Castiel returned her smile before casting his gaze to the spotless, black glass table top and counting spotlights through its reflection for lack of anything better to do. 

The cameras flared to life and he listened to the host read the headlines. The election results, ongoing investigations into police brutality, some sort of virus that had popped up in China… and then she turned to him with her first question. 

She was pretty, clearly of Latina descent, and her smile was pleasant enough as she observed him. Her name was Anita Pérez, he believed. 

“Condolences on your election defeat, Mr. Novak,” she said and she sounded as though she might have meant it; perhaps she had voted for him? He smiled in acknowledgement. 

“Why do you think that you lost to Mr. Winchester?” she asked. “After all, up until the final week, you were predicted to be in the lead.” 

Castiel leaned back in his chair and wondered if Dean was watching. He still hadn’t managed to contact the Republican since he only had his number written in the phone that the police had managed to break. He wondered if Dean missed him as much as he missed Dean. Perhaps he was too busy to think about Castiel; he was going to be president after all. The thought made his heart whine mournfully. 

“I think I lost because the public preferred Mr. Winchester,” he smiled playfully. He received a sympathetic nod in return and immediately lost his hopes for the fun sort of interviews that he had taken part in with Dean. Perhaps it was Dean that he found fun rather than the interviews themselves. Dean always lifted his spirits, even when they were arguing over politics. He would miss that now that the race was over. 

“I believe I lost because Mr. Winchester cares about more than just politics,” Castiel said seriously. “He cares about people. He was willing to lose an election to ensure my safety and wellbeing. He doesn’t allow his work to consume him and he always finds a way to brighten the spirits of those around him. He isn’t what anyone expects of a president – he’s light-hearted and flirty and he has a good sense of humour, and that’s why he’ll make a good president. He listens to people and he takes action because his heart tells him that it’s the right thing to do. I have a lot to learn from him.” 

Pérez nodded and swivelled to face him fully. She seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say. “Will you run against him next election?” 

Castiel chuckled. “I haven’t thought much about it yet. Possibly. I suppose I’ll have to see how much of a mess he makes of the country first.” He immediately felt guilty because unlike the past times that he had poked fun at Dean, this time the man wasn’t present to defend himself. He probably wasn’t even watching the interview and Castiel wished that he could take the words back. 

Pérez offered him a pitying laugh and Castiel miserably thought that he should have remained with the zombies.

“Do you think Mr. Winchester will make a mess of the country?” 

Castiel shook his head quickly. “No. Not at all. I think he’ll be good for America.”

“Better than yourself?” 

Castiel hesitated. That was a loaded question. What should he do; put himself down and diminish his chances for the next time he ran for office, or be a complete ass? 

“I have good faith in him,” he settled on because that’s what politicians did best – give obscure non-answers to very simple questions. 

Pérez nodded slowly and Castiel had no doubt that she had noticed he had dodged the question. Thankfully, she moved on.

“And what exactly is your relationship with Mr. Winchester now that the election is over?” 

Here we go. This was what the whole interview was really about. Dean was busy with briefings and learning how to run a country, but Castiel was available for probing. This was what the country wanted to know – was their relationship a meaningless fling, or was it serious? The answer would certainly shock the nation. 

“I don’t know,” Castiel said simply.

Pérez straightened a fraction and raised a fine eyebrow. “What do you mean?” 

“I’m not sure,” Castiel sighed again. “Between the build-up to election day and the investigation into my relationship with Mr. Winchester _and_ the arrest of my ex, Lucifer Milton, I haven’t been able to speak to Mr. Winchester since the last debate.” He frowned and added, “My personal phone was taken as evidence at the beginning of the investigation and I was recently informed that it had been accidentally _crushed_ on its way back to me. So, I haven’t been able to contact Mr. Winchester because apparently, someone decided to run over my phone with a squad car.” 

Who left a box of evidence in the middle of a parking lot? Who _drove_ over a box of evidence? The police were utterly incompetent. 

Pérez appeared to struggle for words for a moment and Castiel waited patiently for her to collect her thoughts.

“This is… an unusual set of affairs,” said Pérez carefully. “Never in American history have two opposing candidates entered a romantic relationship together. Do you truly believe that a relationship between you and Mr. Winchester would be successful?” 

“I don’t see why not,” said Castiel with a frown. “We might not agree on politics, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t have _anything_ in common.” Which is what Dean had been telling him for weeks and Castiel had been too engrossed in his job to actually _listen._

Pérez clasped her hands over her lap. “If Mr. Winchester is watching us, do you have any words you’d like to share with him?”

Castiel turned to the camera slowly. There were many words he would like to share with Dean, but he would have to keep things short and simple. And PG. 

“If you’re watching this, I’m proud of you, Dean. And I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me. I apologise that I haven’t been in contact and I know you’re extremely busy learning how to lead a country, but I… I miss you. And I’d very much like to see you again.” 

His chest ached as loneliness crept in. He really was desperate to see Dean again – he couldn’t take not knowing the fate of their relationship and he could kick himself for all the times he had chosen politics over Dean. He scoffed at himself for believing that he could move on from Dean once the election was over; there was no chance of that. He was in love with the man and his heart would break into a thousand fragments if he had to think too long about losing him. Why had he scolded Dean every time he had pointed out that their relationship could work? Why had he told Dean that they could never be together? He had been naïve and ignorant and if he had only listened to Dean, he would be happy right now. Instead, their relationship was in limbo and Castiel was talking to a camera lens with no idea if Dean was even watching. 

His eyes fluttered closed for a brief second as his chest stung and a quiet sigh tumbled from his lips as Pérez commented on his response and moved onto her next question. He was about to face her when he caught sight of the cold smirk of the man behind the camera he had just spoken into. 

He knew that face.

Why did he know that face? 

His skin prickled with unease as he filed through his own memories, attempting to place the stranger.

The cameraman’s hand slipped towards the pocket of his MSNBC jacket and Castiel’s pulse raced. Pérez called his name in query and it clearly wasn’t the first time she had done so, but Castiel’s gaze was fixed on the cameraman because he _knew_ this man from somewhere and the thought made him sweat. 

The stranger’s pocket suddenly bulged in a peculiar way and Castiel’s first instinct was to throw himself out of the chair and duck behind the glass table. Pérez yelped in surprise and at the same moment, a bullet sliced through the air and lodged itself in the chair Castiel had vacated less than a second previous. 

The resounding _bang_ had the news crew flying into a blind panic. They screamed and ran for cover, papers fluttering to the ground and mugs shattering over expensive equipment. Lights flickered and microphones bounced and Pérez scarpered out of the room with her hands shielding her head, leaving Castiel to cower behind the table. 

The adrenaline jolted his memory and the name _Alastair_ popped into his head.

One of Lucifer’s friends. 

He had met the man once, by accident when he had come home from work early. Lucifer had threatened him to never speak of the drugs he had just received from the sleazy dealer, and Castiel never had for fear of being hunted by Lucifer’s friends. Now he remembered why he had never told anyone of Lucifer’s abuse. 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” drawled Alastair in the husky tone of a chain smoker – a chain smoker who didn’t smoke only tobacco. 

Castiel heard his footsteps draw nearer and he crawled towards the opposite side of the table, heart hammering against his rib cage. He could see the muscular security guards hovering worriedly in the wings but they were unarmed and if they approached Alastair, they would likely be shot since the drug dealer valued life as high as he valued gun control. 

Licking his dry lips, Castiel shuffled towards the exit on his hands and knees but shouted in alarm when Alastair suddenly sprung on top of the table and aimed the gun at his head. 

“You cheated on him!” Alastair crowed with a psychotic grin. “And he’s the one who got punished! Where’s the justice, _Mr. President?”_

Castiel staggered to his feet as a second bullet lodged itself into the floor where he had been kneeling. He sprinted towards the emergency exit with Alastair in tow and threw himself at the door. It flung open and set off a high-pitched alarm, but Castiel paid no mind to it as he broke out onto the street. A bullet soared past him and burrowed into a lamppost inches from the back of his skull, and he cried out in fear as he raced down the street. 

A few bystanders glanced at him in surprise but when the fourth shot shattered a car window, they yelled and fled in panic. Castiel skidded around a corner and pushed himself faster when he heard a set of footsteps matching his pace. He swung himself around the next corner and nearly sobbed in relief when he spotted a police car at the end of the road; its driver leisurely writing a ticket for a car that was perched in front of a fire hydrant. 

“HELP!” Castiel screamed until the policeman looked up and his partner meandered into view. “HE’S ARMED!”

A fifth bullet sailed past his shoulder and ripped a hole through the squad car siren. The policemen jumped into action and raised their own weapons and Castiel quickly took back everything he had ever said about the police being useless and incompetent. Behind him, Alastair cursed and his footsteps stuttered before he ran in the direction he had just come from. 

Castiel scurried around the corner the police stood at and didn’t stop running until he heard them fire. He slowed, legs aching and chest heaving, and turned to see both policemen disappear up the road he had only just sprinted down. 

He slumped against the nearest wall and ran a hand through his hair. His throat hurt and his heart felt as though it would burst out of his chest. Acidic bile crawled up his throat and he swallowed it down forcefully. 

The only thought on his mind was Dean.

* * *

“Here,” Balthazar said. A small piece of paper lay between his fingers. 

Castiel looked up at him queryingly.

“I was on the phone for over two hours for this. Take it,” Balthazar huffed, drumming his fingers against Castiel’s desk. 

Castiel slid it gingerly out of his grip and frowned at what was scribbled on it. He took a sip of brandy to calm his still-taught nerves. Less than an hour ago he had quite literally been looking down the barrel of a gun. He had yet to receive word of if Alastair had been captured. 

“His personal contact number,” Balthazar said when Castiel cocked his head at the string of numbers. “Dean’s.”

Castiel’s eyes brightened and he glanced up hopefully at Balthazar. His friend shrugged almost sheepishly, which was uncharacteristic of the arrogant French descendent. 

“Go on,” Balthazar urged as he made his way towards the door. “Call him.”

The door slid shut behind him, leaving Castiel to punch in the numbers on his new phone. 

_“Hello? Sorry, I’m a little busy right now-”_

“Dean?” Castiel asked, voice cracking with emotion. 

There was a long pause, then, _“Cas?”_

Castiel barked out a broken laugh and clutched the phone tighter as he slumped lower in his seat. “Yes. It’s me. Balthazar handed me your number and I… I needed to hear your voice.” 

_“Cas… come outside.”_

Frowning, Castiel paused then stood. “I’m on the top floor.” 

_“Then use the elevator.”_

Castiel’s eyebrows rose to his hairline but his feet moved towards the door and he found himself trotting down the stairs, unwilling to wait for the lift to trundle its way to the top floor. 

He walked to the main door of the office building in a trance-like state, phone still attached to his ear, and slowly eased it open.

Before him stood Dean Winchester, phone still pressed to his ear and a delicious-looking pie tucked under his other arm. Behind him crowded five news vans, twenty cameramen, a dozen reporters, and far too many other onlookers. 

“Dean,” Castiel greeted, in a state of shock, and his own voice echoed back to him through Dean’s phone. “I’m… gonna hang up now.” 

Dean nodded slowly as his gaze raked over Castiel’s body, checking for blood. They dropped their phones into their pockets in unison and suddenly, Dean surged forwards and pulled Castiel into a bone-crushing, one-armed hug so as not to squash the pie. Cameras flashed behind them. 

Castiel huffed out a laugh and hugged back just as tightly with both arms before burying his face in Dean’s neck to hide his trickling tears of relief. 

“I saw the interview,” Dean murmured beside his ear. “You okay?”

“Am now,” Castiel mumbled against Dean’s neck, causing Dean to press his lips to his head. 

“Brought you a present,” Dean whispered as he jiggled the pie a little.

Castiel chuckled breathlessly and squeezed Dean tighter. “I can see. What flavour?” 

“Honey and blueberry.”

Castiel laughed silently and buried his face in Dean’s shoulder. Of course, Dean remembered his favourite flavour of pie. Why wouldn’t he? 

“I missed you,” Dean whispered as the cameras flashed and reporters began to babble.

“I missed you too,” Castiel said, ignoring them all. Dean smelled amazing, like coffee and pastries and whatever cologne he wore. He smelled like home and Castiel’s breaths shook as Dean squeezed him gently. He didn’t want to let go. 

“I want this,” Castiel whispered. “Tell me we can have this.”

“…The pie?” 

Castiel grinned against Dean’s shoulder and shook his head. The man thought with his stomach.

“Us,” Castiel murmured. “You. I want you. I’ll resign if I have to. I’ll do anything if it means I can have you.” 

A bright, eager grin swept over Dean’s face and he pulled back to gaze at Castiel hopefully. “I love you,” Dean said, loud enough for the reporters to start honking in excitement like new-born goslings. 

Castiel felt as though he would melt into a contented pile of goo at Dean’s feet. He crushed their lips together and Dean held onto him tightly until they were forced to part for air. 

“I don’t want you to resign,” Dean murmured, their lips brushing. “I want you to keep doing the job you love.”

Castiel’s brows pinched together. “I… Is that allowed? Surely it’s against some regulation or other?” 

Dean huffed something that might have been a laugh. “You were nearly shot in the head an hour ago and you think I care about regulations? You’re mine, Novak, whether it’s allowed or not.” 

Castiel’s mouth curved upwards slowly and his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. Dean would break every rule there was if it meant they could be together and Castiel found himself feeling exactly the same way. If Gabriel himself descended from the Heavens and told him that his fate wasn’t with Dean, he would beat the Angel into submission with his own shoe and drag Dean into his office so he could have his filthy way with him. 

“Come on,” said Castiel as he gazed up at Dean in awe. “Let’s go inside and talk about this properly.”

Dean offered him a lazy smirk, as though he had plans for what they would do once inside Castiel’s office. Perhaps they could celebrate Dean’s victory… 

He wound an arm around Castiel’s waist and the Democrat couldn’t help but grin.

He may not have won the election but he had, by no means, _lost_.

* * *

“Hm… Haven’t we been here before?” asked Dean lightly as he offered Karen Hoople a charming smile. 

The reporter glanced at him in distaste and Dean was dismayed to find that her hatred for him hadn’t lessened any over four years. 

The CNN cameras were pushed into position like they had been in Dean’s first interview on the network four years ago. He fiddled with the same tie he had fiddled with in his first interview and he smiled at the memory. He and Castiel had been strangers then. 

Hoople shuffled her papers as the camera crew counted down to air time.

He cast his gaze to his right and this time, the distance between Castiel and him was non-existent. Dean slid an arm around the back of the Democrat’s portion of the bench seat and smirked smugly at him. 

Castiel matched the expression before grabbing Dean’s wayward hand and kissing his knuckles, and Dean’s gaze softened as he mused over how much he loved the man beside him. He smiled when Castiel absently twisted the gold band around his fourth finger as Hoople read out the headlines. Then she turned to them. 

“It’s unheard of for a married couple to run against one another in the general election,” she said. “How did you feel when you realised that you’d both be competing for the title of president in yet another election?” 

Dean smiled, slow and confident like a man who had everything he wanted in life, but Castiel beat him to a response.

“I told him that he’s done a good job so far, but now it’s time to let a professional step in.” 

Dean rolled his eyes, tangled his fingers with his husband’s, and explained why his rival’s policies were unachievable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! Hope you all enjoyed the quickest updates I've ever posted! I'm on facebook under the name _Dancing Dog_ if you ever want to chat about anything and I hope to see you in my next fic! Thanks for all the lovely comments x


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